


Two Slaves

by Tailkinker



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, M/M, slave/slave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-15
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-14 06:58:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 64,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tailkinker/pseuds/Tailkinker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg has been owned by Doctor Cuddy for a long time, he's settled into a routine but his world is disrupted by the arrival of Doctor Foreman, and his new slave - Jimmy. With their masters working closely together on redesigning the hospital the two slaves find themselves thrown together as well.</p><p>Now updated with long overdue epilogue!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a slavery AU so includes all the usual stuff - various kinds of corporal punishment, some non explicit Master/Slave non-con etc.
> 
> Many thanks to damigella_314 for her ideas, suggestions and corrections, and her cheerleading :)

"Doctor Foreman is starting this morning Greg - he'll have the office next to mine, we'll be working on the redesign of the hospital together. He has his own slave, I'll need you to make sure the slave knows where everything is and how he is to conduct himself in my hospital."

Doctor Cuddy finished buttoning up her blouse and held her arms up for her slave to help her on with her jacket. He came forward with the garment in his hands and obediently slipped it over her arms but she caught a glimpse of a sulky expression on his face.

"Don't frown Gregory, it's very unattractive. I'm sure that helping a new slave find his way around the hospital will hardly be a test of your abilities."

She smoothed down the front of her tight jacket and admired herself in the mirror, yes, she looked ready for the day ahead. The Board had finally approved a complete overhaul of the hospital, including all procedures and structure, as well as a new wing. They'd also brought in a young Doctor who had a growing reputation on the East Coast for his radical ideas. She'd interviewed Doctor Foreman and had concluded he would be a good fit. She also knew that he came from a poorer background and this slave of his was the first he'd ever owned, and had been acquired shortly before his move to New Jersey. He might well need some help with handling the slave, if he was anything as troublesome as Greg was, although to be fair, very few slaves were as difficult as Greg.

She glanced over at her slave, now standing quietly in a corner of the room. He didn't have his hands behind his back and his head lowered as he should but she would have been surprised if he had taken that stance. She didn't expect Greg to be the perfect slave, she did expect him to do what he was told. Mostly he managed that.

She'd had Greg since she was in college, he had been a leaving home gift from her parents. He'd been with her through medical school, internship and every appointment since. He was tall, his over six feet looming over her relatively short stature despite her massive heels. His most striking feature were his startlingly blue eyes, and the quick intelligence that lurked behind them. Quite athletic in his younger days, she used to race him, during medical school and had earned some handy money doing so. A few years ago he'd suffered a crippling infarction in his right thigh and was now very lame.

Her friends had often urged her to get rid of her crippled, aging slave, and find herself a younger, more agile one, but she would never do that. Greg had many hidden talents and had proven invaluable to her. He just needed a firm hand and steady discipline at all times. Luckily his disability had also given her a useful tool to help control him.

She reached up onto the top shelf of her bedroom unit, where she kept his medication and picked up the bottle. She noticed his eyes following her every move and smiled to herself. Yes, Greg was much easier to control now.

She tipped his day's portion out into her hand and slipped them inside a pocket of her jacket, keeping one out. She held that one out to him.

"Your medication, Greg."

He moved quickly and took it out of her hand, wary eyes on her until she gave a nod. At this silent permission he tipped the pill into his mouth and crunched down on it, breaking up the bitter tablet and sucking on the pieces. She grimaced at the sight. She did not know how he could bear the bitter substance, but then she'd never been addicted to Vicodin.

His tense body relaxed somewhat and some of the lines on his face smoothed out. She knew that the effect of the tablet was purely psychological at this point, pain killers just did not work that quickly, even when they were chewed up. She stood still, waiting, and finally he glanced at her and then dipped his head slightly.

"Thank you, ma'am," he said, his tone sincere at least.

"As I said, Gregory - I expect you to be helpful with the new slave."

"Yes, ma'am." His eyes flicked to the pocket of her jacket where the remainder of today's dose was lurking and she knew he had received her message.

* * *

Doctor Foreman was waiting in her office when she got in, he was seated in a comfortable chair in front of the desk. A slave was kneeling by his side in perfect form. Doctor Foreman looked around when she entered, and rose, the slave, quite correctly, did not.

"Doctor Foreman," Cuddy came forward and shook his hand while Greg peeled off to stand behind her desk, cane in hand, ready to do whatever she ordered. She didn't make him kneel as a standard thing anymore, with his injury it was particularly painful - she reserved that for disciplinary proceedings. "Would you like coffee before we begin?"

Foreman sat back down in his seat, leaning back confidently. "My slave will fetch it if you wish."

"My slave, Greg, will assist your slave today in finding his way around the hospital, and acquainting him with the rules, and his duties. The coffee machine on this floor is temperamental but Greg has mastered it - I'm sure he will pass this arcane knowledge on to..." she trailed off and stared at the slave who had yet to move since she entered the room.

"His name is Jimmy." Foreman clicked his tongue and the slave's head came up, eyes fixed on his master. "Jimmy, go with Greg, he will show you where everything is. We'll both have coffee."

The slave rose smoothly to his feet and Cuddy caught a glimpse of his fine features. He was boyish looking, although she suspected he wasn't as young as he appeared. His hair was carefully styled, and he had appealing chocolate brown eyes. Foreman had him dressed as stylishly as himself, in a well tailored pair of pants and shirt, and his collar was a striking wide band of silver.

"My compliments on your slave, he is quite attractive," she said, a smile gracing her face as she regarded him. She wondered what Foreman's policy was on sharing. The slave blushed a very becoming red and looked flustered at her compliment, much to her amusement. Foreman glanced at him and then away. His eyes flitted to Greg, still standing behind her chair, and she shrugged ruefully.

"Greg has other useful abilities. You may go and fetch the coffee Greg and when you have brought that back take Jimmy for a tour around the hospital. You have your pager on?" At his nod she continued, "I will page you if I need you to return. Make it a thorough tour, Jimmy should be able to find his own way around after today."

* * *

Greg limped out of Cuddy's office, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the new slave was following behind him.

"Come on, don't keep her ladyship waiting, when she wants her coffee she wants it now." He nimbly dodged past the people milling around in the clinic's waiting room, careful not to touch any of them and to keep his head down. There was a small staff kitchen behind the clinic and he slipped in there. As he gathered together the coffee things he glanced over at his silent companion.

"You gonna help or you just going to stand there looking pretty, Jim boy?"

"Jimmy, they call me Jimmy," the slave said quietly; apparently he _could_ talk.

"Yeah, well I'm not one of them." Greg looked up. The slave was still standing there like moss on a log. “What do you want to be called?”

The new slave gawked at him, his mouth hanging open. Greg rolled his eyes, he didn't know what the idiot’s problem was – maybe he was just an idiot. But he wasn't about to stand here waiting for him to make up his mind. He didn't want his ass warmed up this morning just because the stupid new slave couldn't get his butt into gear. He turned to the coffee machine and made two coffees.

“James. I used to be James.” The slave’s voice was soft, hesitant, as if he was unused to thinking, or speaking, for himself – as no doubt he was. He sounded surprised, as if he was recalling his name for the first time.

“Great. James it is.” Greg picked up Cuddy’s coffee and spat in it, then he picked up a spoon and stirred it in. James was staring at him again and Greg held out Foreman’s coffee to him.

“Your turn.”

He thought James was going to faint on the spot. Instead he did that goldfish trick with his mouth again and then weakly protested. “You can’t do that.”

“Sure I can – who’s going to know? You’re not going to tell anyone, are you, James?”

James stared at him some more and then slowly a hesitant smile appeared on his face and he spat in Foreman’s coffee. He looked around immediately, as if he was afraid Foreman would suddenly appear.

Greg held up his fist for a fist bump, something he’d seen many of the doctors and other staff doing.

“My man, James.”

James just looked at him with those wide saucer eyes and Greg sighed and put down his hand.

“Never mind.”

Greg turned back to the counter, grabbed a few cookies, shoved one in his mouth, demolishing it in a few bites, and put the rest on a small plate and then put the coffees and cookies on a tray. He tucked his cane under one arm, picked up the tray and was turning to go when he felt a firm hand on his arm.

"I'll take the tray, it'll be easier for you."

Greg looked up in surprise and then shrugged and let go of the tray. "Sure, just don't drop the fucking thing. Mistress Cuddy has a nice little whipping post set up outside and she's not afraid to use it."

James swallowed heavily and nodded seriously. He took the tray carefully, and balanced it as if his life depended on it and they went back into the lobby area. James suddenly stopped still and Greg almost ran into him.

"Watch where you're going, you moron." He looked curiously at James who was staring at the usual hospital activity with a grim expression. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing. I just don't like hospitals." James said and started moving again, his stride sure and steady as he made his way back to Cuddy's office. Greg followed behind him, a smile creasing his face. One thing he knew already about James, he certainly wasn't boring.


	2. Chapter 2

James followed Greg as he led the way around the hospital at a fast clip. He moved quickly for a slave with an apparent disability. He had a lurching limp, his weight resting heavily on the plain lightweight cane that he'd been provided with.

James hadn't had much to do with any other slaves except those in the Slave Training Facility yet. Doctor Foreman had purchased him two weeks ago from the Facility, apparently in honour of his new appointment at this hospital

"Hey, you! Greg! " A voice called and James looked around, startled. A man in a white labcoat had come out of an office they were passing, a file in his hand. James quickly sunk to his knees as required, his head bowed. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that Greg was still standing.

"Doctor Chase," Greg said, his tone polite but confident, as if he was the equal of this man. James waited for the man to strike Greg but instead he felt a hand ruffle his hair.

"Who's the boy, Greg? He's pretty. Look up at me, boy."

James obediently looked up and saw a young doctor, good looking and with a hungry smile on his face.

"He belongs to Doctor Foreman, he's working with Doctor Cuddy."

Doctor Chase looked disappointed. "Oh yes, I remember the memo. I wonder if he likes sharing." He stroked James' hair a couple of times and gave a gentle tug on his collar. James tried to hold perfectly still, despite the shiver of fear that ran through him.

"Did you want me for something? I'm supposed to be taking James on a tour of the hospital." Greg asked, again with a polite tone, but with an undercurrent of something. Contempt maybe. James looked at Doctor Chase to see if he picked up on it but he seemed oblivious.

"Need you to take a look at this file. We're all stumped. Guy's circling the drain and going down fast. Come into the office, there's some scans." Doctor Chase looked at James. "You, wait outside by the door," he pointed to a spot on the floor near the door and James quickly crawled to it as he had not been given permission to rise. He knelt again with his hands behind his back and his head bowed.

With a last pat to James' head Doctor Chase went back into the office.

"Anyone comes by, you tell them you belong to Doctor Foreman," Greg said to him as he limped past. "They'll leave you alone."

Greg went into the office and shut the door behind him, leaving James alone in the corridor. He was puzzled by what he'd heard. Why would a Doctor want a slave's help with a case?

After a few seconds he heard shouting from behind the door and tensed. Was Greg getting disciplined? He had been disrespectful before, not kneeling for the free man. James hoped that whatever was happening he wouldn't be involved in it. Doctor Foreman had warned him this morning to behave himself in the hospital, and not bring any disgrace upon his owner. This was an important appointment for him, his first in senior management. James had heard that this was the first time he'd owned a slave too. Some of the other doctors at the previous hospital had made a point of instructing Doctor Foreman in how he should discipline his slave. Doctor Foreman's old boss had been particularly enthusiastic in that regard, having James drop his pants and lean over the desk while he had demonstrated the 'correct' use of both a paddle and a cane on James' previously unmarked backside.

When he heard the door open James twitched but didn't move from his position. He heard Greg's limping steps.

"Well get up, you moron," Greg said in his gruff voice, sounding angry. "The tour awaits."

James wasn't sure if he should break position on the command of another slave, when he'd been put here by a free man, but he cautiously stood up. There was no sign of Doctor Chase.

"I… I shouldn't leave without permission…" he said hesitantly as Greg started off at his usual brisk pace. Greg looked back at him, anger in his expression but then he sighed.

"You poor sap, they really did a number on you didn't they? How long have you been out of training?"

"Two weeks," he nearly said sir, before he remembered this was another slave.

"Yeah, still wet behind the ears. You a mindwipe?"

James nodded, ashamed. Only the worst criminals got mindwiped to become slaves. He didn't know what he had been before, or what he had done, but being a slave was his punishment. He knew that being a mindwipe slave was the lowest status of all, if slaves could be said to have any status.

Instead of looking disgusted Greg seemed intrigued, his sharp blues scanning him.

"Do you know who you were before?"

James shook his head. He had flashes sometimes, things that seemed familiar but nothing he could pin down. When Greg had asked him his name; what he liked to be called, he had remembered that it was 'James' for the first time.

For the rest it was as if he had been born in the training facility, with his mind a complete blank. He had been rigorously trained, along with a dorm of other mindwipes, to become the perfect slave. He had learned to speak, and to read, and do simple maths, all under strict discipline, and then his practical training had begun. He had learned how to care for his masters. Of the outside world he had learnt nothing.

"Well, I'll give you a tip for free. When Mistress Cuddy says you're to do something, you damn well do it. The kangaroo quack in there," Greg gestured towards the office, "he's just third tier. Now come on."

James obediently fell into step besides Greg, not without glancing anxiously back at the office.

"Why did that doctor want to see you?" he asked. Doctor Chase hadn't wanted to see Greg because he had something he wanted Greg to do for him, or because he wanted to punish him. It had been almost like he was asking Greg to give him his opinion on a patient. No-one had ever asked James his opinion on anything since he became a slave.

Greg glanced at him and smirked. "He wanted a consult."

"But you're not a doctor, you're a slave." James said, too shocked to be diplomatic.

"No kidding, what gave it away? This little fashion accessory?" Greg pointed to the plain black leather collar around his neck. It was narrower than James' one, less showy, as if his owner had nothing to prove.

"I don't have the paperwork, but I know more about medicine than most of the morons in this place. When it suits them they ask for help. Wombat boy back there, he's supposed to be some hotshot diagnostic expert and they send him all the weird cases that no-one can figure out. When he's stumped, which is most of the time, he asks me for help."

A slave who was asked by freemen for medical help. A slave who apparently knew more than a highly trained doctor. James' head was spinning. He wanted to ask so many more questions of this Greg, this intriguing slave. The only slaves James had known were the similarly mindwiped ones in the slave training facility, and none of them had known anything of the outside world. It had been impressed on all of them that were society's rejects, their actions so terrible that they had been forcibly stripped of their memories and been reborn as useful members of society – as slaves. That any slave should be valued for anything but the way they could assist their masters both frightened and excited James. Maybe there could be more to his life.

He looked up to find Greg had gone on ahead of him and he hurried to catch up.

"How did you learn so much about medicine? Did Doctor Cuddy teach you?"

Greg snorted. "Cuddy can barely put in sutures; there's a reason she moved straight to admin and kept me around. Her Daddy and her shrew of a mother bought me for her when she got into college. I attended all her classes so she wouldn't have to carry her own books, or wipe her own ass, and so she could show me off to her similarly empty minded friends. I had to help her study, and to do that I had to learn the stuff too." Greg gave a satisfied smile. "Turns out I was a lot better at it than she was."

"And she lets you help the doctors here?"

"The first time I helped her with a case was when she was an intern; stupid bitch was about to kill some old guy. I was there, decided to say something, and saved his life." Greg's smile had faded. "That was the first time she had me flogged. She'd caned me before of course, but that time she strung me up. I'd embarrassed her in front of her colleagues. So she had me flogged publicly, and she made me wear a gag whenever I was in the room when she was working for the next two weeks. She told me after that that I could give opinions on cases all I wanted, but only ever in private. She'd take credit, I'd get to not be flogged."

"Does she still punish you?"

"Only when I get it wrong." The smile came back. "I'm not wrong much."

Greg stopped outside a door and James looked around – he'd been engrossed in their conversation and hadn't noticed when they had started moving through the areas of the hospital which contained patients. There was a bustle of movement all around them, nurses, and other members of staff moving back and forth, some family members looking lost. Nobody was paying the slaves any attention, for which James was grateful.

"The good thing about a hospital is that there are so many people around nobody knows who belongs and who doesn't," Greg said, peering in the door. "Slaves are even more invisible. Just look like you belong."

James had been staring around him but now focused back on Greg. He had thought this was part of the tour but somehow he didn't think it would include patient rooms. Greg sent him a quick, mischievous, grin and pushed the door to the room open, confidently walking inside.

James was left with two choices, to stay outside the room, being conspicuous (and probably giving Greg away), or to follow the other slave and hope that he knew what he was doing. Without conscious thought he followed Greg into the room.


	3. Chapter 3

Both slaves knelt before the desk, Foreman standing behind them; Cuddy was seated at her desk. The slaves had disciplinary cuffs on, holding their wrists together tightly behind their backs. Greg was gagged.

"Greg. You were in a patient's room, without permission, and without escort. When instructed to leave you argued with the patient's family and hospital staff. You have been repeatedly warned for this type of behaviour in the past. I allow you to consult in an unofficial capacity on cases. You are not permitted to have patient interaction, unless it is expressly arranged. You will receive twenty lashes and be detained in the cells for forty eight hours."

She dismissed her own slave's case, ignoring the pleading look in his eyes, and turned to the other slave.

"Jimmy, I understand that you were only following Greg, as you had been ordered to do, but you also broke the hospital rules. You should have realised that you weren't permitted to be in a free patient's hospital room with permission. On this occasion I will leave your discipline to your master." She turned to Foreman. "If you wouldn't mind, Doctor Foreman?"

"Of course," he came up behind Jimmy and put a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Would you prefer me to do it somewhere else, or would you like it dealt with here?" He asked Cuddy. She glanced at the slave, he looked terrified. Good, it would make him think twice the next time. This was a good opportunity to show the new slave and his master that she ran a tight ship.

"Here will be fine – Greg can watch, and see that he's caused Jimmy pain – although I doubt he will care."

Foreman nodded and removed his slave's handcuffs. Then he slapped him on the shoulder. "Over the desk, pants down, Jimmy."

The slave crawled on his hands and knees to the desk and rose up to loosen his pants, pushing them down his legs, his hands paused on his underwear but at a smack on the ass and a sharp command from Foreman he rolled them down as well. Cuddy took a quick look; James was reasonably well endowed, although it was difficult to tell with him being flaccid. She thought about having Foreman show him off but it would be unprofessional in this situation. Instead she watched while the slave lowered his upper body over her desk. She moved her papers out of the way, and sat back in her chair.

Doctor Foreman was looking around for her cane and she waved a hand at the stand in the corner where she kept a selection of canes and paddles for use on Greg, and any of the hospital slaves that needed attention.

Foreman selected a paddle; it was a long one, with a nice heavy weight behind it. Cuddy nodded approvingly. Jimmy would feel that. A shame really for Jimmy, he had been led astray by Greg after all, but it would provide a quick sharp lesson for him, and it was always better, with a pet or with a slave, to correct any misbehaviour before it got out of hand. She nodded to Foreman to begin.

At the first stroke Jimmy yelped and twitched, his eyes meeting hers before he hastily looked away. By the sixth stroke there were tears running down his cheeks but he hadn't pulled away or done anything other than lie there and take it. She spared a glance at Greg; he was staring at Jimmy with an odd look in his eyes. Interesting. She looked up at Foreman and saw that he was lost in what he was doing. Some slave owners hated having to cause their slaves pain, as necessary as it was for having a well-kept slave. She could see that Foreman was not in that category. Although he appeared calm and dispassionate she could see signs of arousal on him. Paddling Jimmy was turning him on. She'd previously thought him rather boring, maybe there was more to him than met the eye.

By the time he reached twelve Jimmy was openly crying, and making small, pathetic sounds of pain. She caught Foreman's eye, nodded slightly and he stopped. He pulled up Jimmy's head by the hair and quickly scanned his face. Seemingly satisfied he let the head drop down and gave him a slap to his sore buttocks.

"Pull your pants back up, Jimmy. Then go and kneel in the corner until we're done. Face the wall, and if I hear one sound from you I'll gag you. Understand?"

Jimmy nodded, tears still crawling down his face. Foreman sent him on his way with another slap to the ass. "Get going then."

They both watched as his crawled to the corner and knelt there quietly.

"I'm sorry for the disruption my slave caused on his first day here. I assure you it won't happen again, Doctor Cuddy." Foreman said smoothly.

She waved his apology away. "It must be unsettling for him to come to a new place. I'm afraid Greg is at fault." She looked at Greg; he was still kneeling in place, the gag preventing him from saying anything. She knew he hated being gagged, which was why she did it of course.

"Does he often go into patient rooms?" Foreman asked, "From a legal standpoint that seems very hazardous. He could be resumed by the Government if a patient complains."

As if she didn't know that. She'd had to buy off patients in the past, when Greg had overstepped his boundaries and the patients were looking for some quick money.

"Greg knows not to go into patient rooms without prior permission. He knows the procedure for gaining permission - he just doesn't always choose to use it. I'm afraid Gregory has very little common sense or self control. No doubt that is why he is a slave."

She saw Greg's head snap up, his gaze sharpen. She recognised all the signs; he was having an epiphany about the patient. Good. She came around the desk and bent to his head, unbuckling the gag. It was a large gag and his jaw was obviously stiff, he worked it a few times before trying to speak. Grabbing a bottle of water from her desk she held it to his lips and permitted him to have a few swallows.

"You needed to speak, Greg?"

"Yes... yes ma'am," he said, obviously doing his best to speak politely. "I know what's wrong with the patient. It's like you said - it's just common sense."

She had no idea what he was talking about but she picked up her cell phone and dialled the number for Chase. Placing the phone on speaker she put it on the floor next to Greg, as his hands were still bound behind him.

When Chase answered he and Greg began a rapid fire conversation. She listened to Greg outline the patient's diagnosis, speaking in a crisp authoritative voice. The contrast of this conversation with the sight of him kneeling before her desk with his hands cuffed behind him was amusing.

Foreman was staring at Greg and she smiled, Greg's abilities always surprised people when they first saw him in action, the general image of slaves was that they were dull and simple, having to be instructed in the smallest of things, and having no ability to think for themselves. In reality she had found that slaves came with varied personalities and abilities, although Greg was obviously an outlier. The brighter and more independent the slave the more useful they could be, and the more control their owner had to keep them under. There was a skill to successful slave handling, and she'd been practising it ever since she acquired Greg.

"Greg is somewhat of a medical savant Doctor Foreman. He attended me throughout my college years, and med school, and picked up a thorough education - although of course he has no practical skills to speak of." Greg had finished his conversation and she picked up the phone and said a few words to Chase, confirming that he had understood his instructions. Satisfied, she hung up and nodded to Greg.

"Good work, Greg." She went to the door and told her assistant to call for security, there was the matter of Greg's discipline to attend to.

"I saved that patient's life," Greg protested, another infraction of the rules but one she would overlook, for now.

"Reaching correct diagnoses for patients is part of your duties, Greg. An important part, if you didn't do that I would sell you as you well know. You don't receive any special consideration for doing your work. You broke the rules and will be punished for it." She picked up the gag and after a moment of closed mouth defiance he opened his mouth reluctantly and she buckled it back on behind his head. "It's important that a slave knows the rules, and that you will enforce them at all times," she told Foreman.

Two men from security arrived and she waved her hand at Greg.

"Twenty lashes, then cells for forty eight hours, have him checked out afterwards but no pain killers. Take him outside and get him ready, I'll be along in a few minutes."

The guards hauled Greg to his feet and half dragged him out of her office. Cuddy nodded to the corner where Jimmy was still kneeling.

"Would you like to bring Jimmy outside to watch? We usually have as many slaves as possible witness a whipping," she smiled. "It seems to focus their minds on their work very well."

Foreman smiled and glanced down at Jimmy. "I think that might be a very good idea."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

James knelt quietly by Doctor Foreman's side, the hard concrete cold beneath his knees. The handcuffs hadn't been replaced but he held his hands behind his back and kept his head bowed. They were in a small courtyard, surrounded by three walls. There were a handful of free people present and eight other slaves besides himself. He guessed that they were either personal slaves of hospital personnel, or slaves owned by the hospital. They were all kneeling as he was, in the front row, with an unimpeded view of the whipping post.

James felt sick; he'd never seen a slave being whipped before. In the training facility the occasional slave had been caned, or paddled, but James had never been in need of that. He'd learnt, in training, that slaves could be whipped but this was the first time he was seeing it.

Greg was stripped to the waist, his bare chest shivering in the cool wind that blew across the yard. James was so close he could make out the faint outline of scars across his back, fine white lines. Greg had been whipped before, perhaps many times.

His clenched hands were cuffed and bound to the top of the whipping post, held far above his head. His legs were slightly spread as he faced the post.

Doctor Cuddy read out the charge, and the sentence, and then picked up the whip. It was a multi tailed whip, and James found his eyes riveted to the strands that would soon be lashing Greg's body.

"Heads up, slaves," Doctor Cuddy commanded. He reluctantly put his head up along with the others, staring straight at Greg where he stood, fastened to the post.

He thought for a moment that Doctor Cuddy was going to administer the blows personally but instead she handed the whip to a security officer.

It happened quickly. The fall of the whip on Greg's back, his muffled grunt of pain and the arching of his back. Then the whip fell again, each blow coming quickly after the next. After several blows the skin was reddened, and then welts and fine lines of blood began appearing. James wanted to look away, to look down, but he kept his head up and witnessed Greg's agony. Greg's body was covered in sweat, his head hung down between blows, only to jerk up again at each stroke. James twitched in place, he wanted to get up, and run over there and cut Greg down, he wanted to stop his pain. He must have made some movement because Foreman looked down at him in surprise.

"Stay still, Jimmy. Greg is getting what he deserves."

After the twentieth blow the guard put the whip down and James felt a wave of relief that it was over. He felt sick, lightheaded, almost like he was going to faint. Greg's back had several welts on it, there was blood smeared across the surface. Greg was slumped against the post, his body shaking.

As he watched, Greg was taken down from the post and marched off by the guards. James turned his head to watch him go, wondering where they were taking him. Doctor Cuddy had said 'the cells'.

"On your feet James, we're going home." Doctor Foreman clicked his tongue. James looked up at him for a moment, feeling suddenly lost and Foreman frowned. "Up, James. Now! Or do you want another paddling?"

He scrambled to his feet, still feeling light headed. His buttocks were sore from the paddle, he didn't want another dose and he definitely didn't want to be whipped like Greg had been.

Doctor Foreman led him to an office close to Doctor Cuddy's.

"I'll be working here, you'll attend me. Pick up those files over there," he pointed to a stack on one corner of the desk. "I'll be looking those over tonight. You've wasted a lot of my time today, and Doctor Cuddy's. I expected much better behaviour from you, Jimmy."

"I'm sorry, sir," James said humbly, picking up the files. He heard the tremor in his voice and felt ashamed. Greg wouldn't be scared like this.

Doctor Foreman sighed. "I'm sure you were led astray by Greg. He's a bad influence, Jimmy. I will be working intensively with Doctor Cuddy, so you will be around Greg a lot. You don't want to end up like him, do you? You don't want to go back to the slave training facility and be mind wiped again do you? They do that to slaves who can't behave themselves."

"No, sir," James said in a quiet voice. He didn't ever want to go back to that place; he certainly didn't want to be mind wiped again. He had little enough of himself left; he didn't want to lose even that tiny bit.

"Then see you behave yourself. Now pack those files in my bag and let's go."

James packed the files away, helped his master into his coat and then carried everything to Doctor Foreman's car.

As he sat uncomfortably strapped into the slave harness in the back seat of the car, he thought about the day he'd just had. It had been a bad day but he had met another slave. A very interesting slave, a slave who had given him some hope that things could be different to this. He was glad that he would be working with Greg a lot - he was sure that he could learn a great deal from him.


	4. Chapter 4

James had a blanket on the ground next to Doctor Foreman's washing machine to sleep on. The laundry space was small and cramped and the floor was cold. At least in the training centre he'd had a bed, albeit one in a dorm with the next slave along only a few inches from him. Not that he'd had much chance to sleep there; they'd crammed their days full - every morning up at four, with training and work for a solid sixteen hours before they had a chance to lie down again. They'd been told that they would be expected to work for sixteen hours a day as slaves, with two small meal breaks. The schedule at the centre was to prepare them.

Doctor Foreman was certainly a subscriber to the sixteen hour work day for James. He rose at four o'clock to begin the day's work. His first task was to clean up both himself and the area he slept in. He carefully folded up his blankets and stowed them on the shelf above his head. Then he swept down the area, making sure that no trace of his presence remained.

He then made his way to a small area set aside for some gym equipment. His master had set a training and exercise regime for him and he was to follow the program every day to keep his body in good shape. He got on the treadmill and ran solidly for thirty minutes.

That done he stripped off his boxers and gave himself a thorough cleaning in the sink. He wasn't permitted to use Doctor Foreman's shower of course, and there was no other in this small apartment. He winced as he dried himself with one of Doctor Foreman's old towels. Screwing his body around he could just about see his ass, it was still tender to the touch from the paddling the day before, but there had been no blood drawn and there were only a couple of welts. He could make out some bruising and reminded himself not to sit if he could help it.

When he was dry he cleaned the sink and hung the towel up to dry. He didn't put his good clothes on yet, Doctor Foreman wouldn't like it if he made them dirty with his cleaning; he had an old pair of pants and t-shirt that he put on for now.

For the next hour he occupied himself with doing laundry and then cleaning everything he could find to clean in the apartment. He started a pot of coffee for Doctor Foreman and laid out some things ready to start breakfast when it was time.

At six o'clock precisely he went to Doctor Foreman's bedroom and sunk to his knees beside the bed, ready to be of service if Doctor Foreman required it. Doctor Foreman usually woke up in need and one of James' duties was to serve that need.

They had taught him how to do this most efficiently in the centre and it barely required thought as he engulfed Doctor Foreman's erection with his mouth and brought him to a climax. He swallowed carefully and kept himself relaxed as his master finished. At a nod of dismissal he rose and went back to the kitchen to prepare breakfast while Doctor Foreman relieved himself.

While Doctor Foreman was eating James laid out his clothes for the day, carefully checking to make sure that every piece was immaculate. Then he put out towels for his master's use and checked that there was soap and shampoo available in the shower.

While Doctor Foreman showered he tidied the bedroom and cleaned away the breakfast things and then waited on his knees so that he could dry his master off when he was finished with his shower.

Once Doctor Foreman was dressed it was time for morning training. Doctor Foreman wanted James to be able to respond to a series of non-verbal commands so that the slightest movement of his master's hands would convey what he wanted. One motion would have James on his knees; another would have him by his master's side. Still another would have him bringing food, or drink. At all times James was to hold himself in perfect form. He was to be an adornment to his Master when they were out in public, the perfect slave, attentive to his Master's every whim, and an extension of his Master's will. During training sessions Foreman fitted him with a broad collar that kept his head held high. James found it very uncomfortable and was glad that he was not normally required to wear it.

After training Doctor Foreman had him strip out of his work clothes so he could be inspected. His master insisted on a well turned out slave. James had learnt how to groom himself in the Facility but even their standards didn't match up to Doctor Foreman's exacting ones. His face must be kept scrupulously clean of hair; his hands had to be spotlessly clean, as did the rest of his body. This morning Doctor Foreman turned him around to examine his backside.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, one hand running over the welts and bruises.

"Yes, sir, just a little bit," James answered honestly. He was rewarded with a stinging slap across the worst of the damage. He flinched and Doctor Foreman stilled him.

"Don't move, boy. It's supposed to hurt. You embarrassed me in front of Doctor Cuddy, on my first day. I've obviously been too lax with you. I know you are fresh out of training but that's no excuse for slackness and disobedience. How a slave behaves reflects on their master. I expect you to be behave impeccably at the hospital today."

"I will, sir."

Doctor Foreman smacked him again, harder, and this time James bit his lip but stayed in place.

"Go and get dressed and be quick, I don't want to be late."

James trotted off quickly. He had already checked his clothes this morning but he checked them again anxiously, any stain on his own clothing would be a poor reflection on his master. When he came back out to the living area Doctor Foreman ran a quick eye over him and nodded. James then packed Doctor Foreman's briefcase, picked up his laptop and stowed them both in the car. Entering the back seat he secured the slave harness around himself and waited for Doctor Foreman to come out and drive them to the hospital.

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When they arrived at the hospital Doctor Foreman barely stopped into his own office before going to Doctor Cuddy's with James trailing him. Doctor Cuddy was alone this morning; there was no sign of Greg of course. James hadn't really expected to see him - he had been sentenced to forty eight hours in the cells after all, but he still felt a slight pang of disappointment. He went to his knees at a flick of Doctor Foreman's finger and waited for any instructions.

"Good morning Doctor Cuddy, I trust you slept well?" Doctor Foreman asked as he settled himself into his chair.

"Oh, I told you to call me Lisa, Eric," Doctor Cuddy replied. "Yes, I had a good night, although it is difficult without any help. Greg can be a handful but he is useful around the house."

"Would you like to borrow Jimmy for the duration?" Doctor Foreman asked and James flinched, he was still learning how to serve his own master properly, he was uneasy at the thought of going to another house and learning a new routine. He also found Doctor Cuddy a little scary, remembering how she'd casually ordered Greg's whipping and detention.

Doctor Cuddy gave a little laugh. "Oh, I wouldn't deprive you of him; I know you've only just bought him. Although I have had people already asking me if you had any policy on sharing. It seems he caught the eye of a few people in the hospital yesterday."

"I don't want Jimmy distracted with that." Doctor Foreman shook his head. "I bought him to be useful to me, not to give other people a quick thrill."

"Your first slave?"

"I bought him when I heard you had approved my application to work in this project. I know you're up against a tight deadline and there's a lot to get done. Jimmy can be useful both here and at home. Speaking of which..." Doctor Foreman crooked a little finger and James sat up straighter, his eyes focused on his master. "Coffee," Doctor Foreman said once he knew he had his slave's attention. He made another slight gesture which James knew meant 'up'. He got up to his feet and quickly made his way out of the room and found the coffee area he'd seen the day before.

After carefully pouring out two mugs of coffee he paused. He looked around carefully, but there was no-one in sight. With a small smile he spat into the two mugs.

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The cell where Greg was being held was one of two in the basement of the hospital, down a corridor from the morgue. The cells were only designed to be used by slaves for a short period of time; he'd never had to spend more than a couple of days in one. There was no elaborate set-up; it was a case of putting a slave in a cell with a small amount of food and enough water for two days and locking the door. There was a bright light in the ceiling that never went off, and an old surveillance camera high up in a corner. Greg didn't know if anyone ever bothered to monitor the camera or not. Mostly they seemed to assume that a slave wouldn't come to any harm in two days locked in this room.

There was no furniture, just a tattered mattress and an old blanket. A bucket in one corner served as a toilet - his first job on release would be to carry that out and empty it. One of the hospital's junior doctors had taken a quick look at the lash marks on his back and cleaned them up - which had hurt almost as much as the whipping itself. Then he'd been shoved in here, still shirtless, and the door slammed and locked and that was that.

He wouldn't have minded being in here so much if it wasn't for the 'no painkillers' rule. He needed his Vicodin. One reason was that he was in chronic pain, and that meant all the time, and that meant especially when he was locked in a small cell with nothing to distract him. The other reason was that he was addicted to the Vicodin. He should never have been put on it for such a long period of time of course, but Cuddy had worked out that it would be in her interest to have something to hold over him, and hold it over him she did. He was given the Vicodin, or it was withheld, at her whim.

He knew he would start detoxing in here, after only a few hours he'd be craving the drug badly, a few hours after that the shakes would start, and the shivering, and the nausea, and then the pain would magnify ten-fold.

He lay on his side on the mattress and tried to distract himself by running over Chase's last patient in his mind. He hadn't found the answer by going in to see the patient, but he'd seen something that had started his mind down a path to the answer, even if he hadn't realised it at the time. It had been worth going in the room without authorisation.

It was a shame that new slave - James - had gotten caught up in it though. The guy had looked terrified when they were caught, and even more so when that bastard Foreman had paddled him. Greg knew how much that hurt, and Foreman looked like he was putting heart and soul into each stroke. He was probably trying to prove that he could be a tough slave owner with the best of them.

He hadn't thought that James would go into the patient's room with him. In truth he'd been so intent on getting in there and getting an answer that he hadn't considered any consequences to himself, let alone James. He wasn't used to having another slave to think about, but it looked like he and James would be spending time together while Cuddy and Foreman did all their important administrative work. Well, if James was going to be around he'd have to smarten up a bit. James was still a very new slave, but Greg had been a slave since he was twelve - he knew all the ins and outs, and the best ways to get what he either wanted or needed. He also knew how to take a whipping.

He wondered why James had been mind-wiped, the guy seemed so harmless now, giving off an air of baffled confusion with those big wide eyes of his and that shy little smile when he'd followed Greg's example and put something extra in Foreman's coffee. It seemed impossible that he could have committed a crime so serious that he'd been sentenced to being mind-wiped and then enslaved for the rest of his life.

Greg shuddered as a wave of need went through him, and shifted on the blanket. Damn, withdrawal was kicking in for sure now. It was time to stop puzzling out the mystery of James and concentrate on his own wellbeing. He turned on his other side and stared at the wall. When the pain in his leg got really bad he'd use the gating mechanism on the wounds on his back, until then he'd try and get some sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

James knelt in Doctor Cuddy's office, his attention focused on her and his master - Doctor Foreman. They had been working on designs for the new wing for the last two days, with papers spread all over the desk. James had been sent to fetch coffee, lunch, snacks, and to run various errands around the hospital. He'd also photocopied, filed, and in his spare moments dusted and cleaned every surface in both her and Doctor Foreman's offices. He'd had a few bad moments, because neither of the doctors seemed to remember that his 'tour' of the hospital with Greg had been interrupted before they'd covered much ground. However he'd managed to find his way around, and learned to operate the various appliances without too many disasters. He'd attracted unwelcome attention as he moved around the hospital, from both the female and male staff. He wished his master would shave his head, or allow him to dress in less stylish clothes, or do something to make his appearance less appealing than it apparently was. When he looked in the mirror at Doctor Foreman's apartment he didn't see anything special, but many of the free people in the hospital seemed to find it necessary to ruffle his hair, or to pet him. They usually laughed and dismissed him when he explained that he belonged to Doctor Foreman and was on an errand for him, but it did make doing anything take longer than it should.

Doctor Cuddy stretched and James instantly snapped to alertness. Although he belonged to Doctor Foreman Doctor Cuddy seemed to regard him as her property as well, even though she hadn't taken up Doctor Foreman's offer of a temporary loan. Greg was still in the cells, wherever they were - James hadn't come across them in his travels around the hospital.

"I suggest we break for dinner and retire to somewhere more comfortable. My house is only five minutes from here, if you would like to come back there we can have some dinner and then continue this - another couple of hours and we should be able to get the plans finalised for the meeting tomorrow."

Doctor Foreman looked a little surprised but then smiled. "Of course, James will cook us something if you like."

James liked cooking, they'd taught him how in the training center and he could make a wide variety of dishes. Doctor Foreman allowed him to scrape the bowls and eat any leftovers, and the scraps were a nice change from the standard slave rations that he otherwise ate.

"Oh security is bringing Greg back up here in a few minutes, he can do it, James can help him." She smiled a little. "Greg may not be feeling very well after his stay in the cells."

"It must have been difficult for you to manage without him."

"Unfortunately I am used to losing him at regular intervals, it is inconvenient but discipline comes first - he's usually quite compliant for a while after one of his stays. Ah," she looked up at the door, "here he is now."

James turned his head to look at the door. Greg was walking slowly between two guards, his head down, his gait slow and his feet dragging. He didn't have his cane and it looked like every step was agonising. He stumbled into the office and the guards pushed him to his knees in front of Doctor Cuddy's desk.

He didn't have a shirt on and the welts from the whipping could be clearly seen on his skin. Doctor Cuddy dismissed the guards and then ran her hand over Greg's back, nodding in approval.

"Healing well," she murmured. "Head up, Gregory, let me look at you."

Greg put his head up and James almost gasped at the sight of him. Greg's face was sweaty, and drawn, pain lines were cut deeply into it. Greg was shaking and shivering in the warm air of the office. James thought he looked very ill.

"He's in withdrawal," Doctor Cuddy explained to Doctor Foreman. "He has Vicodin for the pain from his infarction," she gestured to Greg's right leg. "He hasn't had any in two days, the pain must be excruciating now."

"Vicodin? That seems an unusual choice for a long term painkiller."

"It's the only thing we've found that doesn't impair his functioning. His mind is still sharp on it, and he can still work. His long term outlook isn't good of course." She added the latter statement as an afterthought.

Doctor Cuddy went to her desk drawer and took out a locked container. She unlocked it and took out a pill.

She held the pill out an open palm. "Here, Gregory, you may have this."

Greg hesitated, glancing at her, and then at James. Then he got to his hands and knees and crawled over to her, taking the pill with his teeth from her palm. He quickly crunched it between his teeth.

"Good boy. Now help James pack these files up and fetch my coat." She held out his walking cane to him and he slowly and painfully levered himself to his feet. James went over to the desk and began picking the files up, putting them in a box. Greg wasn't much help, his hands shook as he tried to do anything but James covered for him as much as he could and the two doctors were preoccupied with their conversation. Gradually he saw Greg begin to regain some steadiness, his shivering stopped and he seemed more relaxed. The Vicodin must be working, both to help his pain, and to stop the withdrawal symptoms.

"Greg, my coat! Or did you want to spend another night in the cells?" Doctor Cuddy asked impatiently.

As Greg went to the stand to get Doctor Cuddy's coat Doctor Foreman clicked his tongue and summoned James to his side.

Together the four of them left the hospital, the doctors leading the way and the slaves trailing behind, carrying the bags and files. As James walked next to Greg he saw that the other slave was struggling to walk, still clearly in pain. His chest was bare and when they walked out into the night air Greg shivered. James moved a little closer to him, trying to lend his support silently. Greg glanced at him and started to say something but then just nodded slightly before putting his head down and hauling himself to the car.

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Once Foreman and Cuddy were safely out of earshot, in the front living room of the large double storey house, Greg rounded on the new slave.

"Why did you go into the patient's room, you moron? Don't you have any sense?"

James looked at him with those wide eyes, his jaw dropping open. Clearly Greg had taken him by surprise.

"I just followed you. You went in there."

"If I threw myself down three flights of stairs would you do the same? Idiot!"

The astonishment on James' face was being taken over by anger.

"You were showing me around the hospital. You went into the room, what was I supposed to do?"

"You were supposed to wait outside for me."

"I got a paddling because of you!"

"Yeah, and I got twenty lashes and two days in a cell. So don't tell me your hard luck story, pretty boy."

They glared at each other and then Greg looked around the kitchen and sighed. "Come on, let's not keep our masters waiting." He limped heavily to the fridge and began taking out ingredients for dinner. His cane was hung up on the door handle and he moved slowly without it.

"I can make dinner," James blurted out. "You sit down and rest."

Greg stared at him and James shifted his feet and made a sort of waving motion with his hand.

"Well, like you said, I had it easier than you. You still owe me the rest of that tour by the way. I got lost for twenty minutes today on the way back from radiology."

Greg stared for a moment longer and then quirked a smile. James wasn't apparently quite the docile, sheep like, slave he first appeared. If the guy wanted to cook dinner and let Greg sit on his ass for a bit he wasn't going to complain. He might even give him the rest of that tour one day if James cooked well enough.

There was an old chair in one corner of the kitchen and he sunk onto it gratefully. Cuddy had let him put a shirt on once they arrived but he was still cold to the bone and the Vicodin was barely taking the edge off the pain.

He gave James instructions on what to make and watched him carefully. James did seem to know his way around a kitchen, although no doubt Foreman's meals would be quite different from the light, healthy, food Greg prepared for Cuddy. Greg always made enough for himself to have a small plate of the same meal - an arrangement Doctor Cuddy had instigated early on. She seemed to think that if Greg was eating the same food as he prepared for her that he would ensure it was at least edible. Greg didn't much like her choice of meals, some days he would have done anything for a large rare steak and some fries, but at least he didn't have to rely on slave rations.

Once the dinner was prepared he and James took a plate each out to the doctors who had moved to the dining room, refilling their wine glasses while they were out there. Once both were settled with their dinner Cuddy nodded at Greg and dismissed him, with a flick of his fingers Foreman did the same to James. Back in the kitchen the two slaves sat down on stools around the central kitchen island and ate the extra portions James had prepared. Greg picked at his. He'd had nothing but basic rations for two days, but the pain and the nausea from the withdrawal were wrecking his appetite.

"This looks like a nice place," James said and Greg rolled his eyes. Yeah, it was 'nice', but it was a cage for him all the same. A cage he was expected to keep immaculately clean at all times. He had one room in this place that was his, except it wasn't really his - Cuddy could come in and 'inspect' her slave's room at any time. She could take his things; not that there was much to take.

He grunted and James got the hint and shut up while he finished his dinner. When they were done they cleaned down the kitchen and Greg went out to see if Cuddy needed anything.

She and Foreman were sitting on the couch in the living room, they were laughing and clearly comfortable with each other; their work pushed to one side. Greg refilled both their wine glasses and took away their plates.

"Once you have cleared everything away take James to your room and stay there," Cuddy instructed him. "I will call you when I want you. "

"Yes, ma'am," Greg said - he knew what that meant. His eyes flickered to her pocket where she usually kept his Vicodin. The one she had given him was only taking the edge off his pain, he could do with another, and it might be hours before she was finished with Foreman.

"That will be all, Greg." She dismissed him with a wave of her hand and he knew better than to ask.

He limped back to the kitchen and gave James the plates to wash while he straightened up.

"Come on," he said when James was finished. "We've been sent to my room to play."

James glanced at the door back to the living area. "But..."

"Cuddy's orders. She's going to do the deed with Foreman and she doesn't want two slaves hanging around while she does it. And I sure as hell don't want to watch." He led the way to his small room at the back of the house. James followed reluctantly. He looked confused.

"Doctor Cuddy is going to have sex with Doctor Foreman? But..." He blushed and looked down at his feet. Greg laughed harshly.

"What, did you think you and Foreman had some sort of exclusive thing going on? That he was fucking you because he loved you or something?"

"How did you know..."

"That he was fucking you? The same way I know he eats and breathes. You're his slave, you're pretty, why the hell wouldn't he use you? Doesn't stop him getting it on with Cuddy. You're just a sex toy, handy for keeping his dick warm when there's nothing better on offer than his own hand." Greg pushed the door to his room open, if they were going to have this conversation it would be better in there.

It was a small room, about the size of a child's bedroom. A narrow bunk ran along one wall, on the other were some cheap shelves, crammed with medical books and journals. Cuddy supplied them so he could keep up to date. Any time she didn't need him he was supposed to stay in here and study. A small wardrobe held his clothes and there was a desk in one corner. On top of the desk was his prize possession, an Mp3 player with a dock. Cuddy had given it to him a few months ago, as a reward for stopping an epidemic from sweeping through the hospital's maternity section. It was another way she could control him, something she could confiscate if she wanted to, or reward him by taking it away and putting another few songs on it for him. He hated that she used it against him, but he loved the player. Sometimes he would lie on his bunk, put on some music and read; pretending that he was free and spending a lazy night in by his own choice.

The room was crowded with James in it. The guy stood and stared at the walls, and at the bed like he'd never seen one before. He went over to the journals and books and ran his hands over the spines.

"These are yours?"

"Of course not. I'm a slave, I can't own anything."

"But they're here for you to read? And you sleep in here?"

"Yes."

"And you have a door." James said, a certain wistful envy in his voice.

"Two doors, if you're counting." Greg pointed out the other one, it led to a tiny bathroom and toilet. Overcome by a wave of weariness and pain he sat down on the bunk and grabbed his thigh. He'd been in agony since the whipping, not from the lash marks, he hardly felt them through the roaring pain in his leg. The withdrawal had magnified the pain and added the lovely bonus of nausea and shaking. He was craving another Vicodin badly now, and there wouldn't be one any time soon.

James came over to him.

"You're still in pain."

"No shit." Greg gasped through his clenched teeth.

James dropped to his knees in front of him and reached for the waistband of Greg's pants.

Greg stared at him. "Not tonight, dear. I hardly know you." He tried to brush away James' hands.

"I need to take your pants down so I can massage your leg. It might help. I know how to massage, they taught me." He unzipped the pants and slowly eased them down Greg's legs. The hideous scar on Greg's thigh was revealed. He'd almost died when he'd had the infarction. Cuddy hadn't taken his complaints about sudden leg pain seriously, accusing her wayward slave of malingering. By the time she'd allowed him to get a proper examination the muscle had already started dying. Greg wasn't sure why she'd opted for having a debridement done, rather than an amputation but she had - and had left Greg in chronic pain, and limping, for the rest of his life.

James put his hands on the scar and the surrounding tissue and began to slowly massage it, kneading out the tight muscle there. The pain was worse to start with but then gradually the massage began to work and the muscle relaxed. He closed his eyes in relief; the pain was still there of course, that never went away, but he could breathe through it. He lay back on the bunk as James' hands slipped from his thigh. He felt a blanket pulled over him and the soft touch of a hand as it brushed him.

"Get some sleep," James said, his voice quiet.

He wanted to protest, and to stay awake. After all there was another slave in his room, with access to his stuff, but he was so tired that he couldn't open his eyes again. His last memory before he fell asleep was of James quiet breathing.

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James watched as Greg fell asleep, his expression smoothing out as the pain was banished by slumber. He tucked the blanket tighter around the man and then stood up from the edge of the bed.

He looked around him, still hardly able to believe that Greg had all this to himself. The bed looked comfortable and he was as tired as Greg but there wasn't room really for two of them and he wasn't sure how long his master was going to be, he needed to be alert for a summons. He went over to the other door and tentatively opened it, only to stare at the room beyond; it was a closet sized room, tiled throughout, with a handheld shower head in one corner and a toilet in the other. He looked at the shower longingly, he hadn't had one since his last one before the auction where he was sold. He probably had time now - if Greg was correct about Doctor Cuddy and Doctor Foreman having sex. He dithered on the edge of the room for a moment but then quickly shut the door, cutting off temptation. He mustn't forget that he was a slave, and that he had to ask permission for things like that. Maybe he could ask when Doctor Foreman called for him, then again, he thought, his imagination bringing up a picture of his master's face if he did ask in front of Doctor Cuddy, maybe not. He should be content with what he had.

He went over to the little music player and touched it tentatively. Doctor Foreman had a similar gadget in his home, although much bigger. James had never touched it of course, except to dust it, but he knew it made music somehow. Greg was so lucky to have such luxuries, his mistress must value his medical talents very much. James wished wistfully that he had some talent that Doctor Foreman might appreciate enough to give him treats.

It wasn't that his life with Foreman was so hard, it had been much more difficult in the training centre - his instructors had been far more demanding of him, but he was beginning to look around and notice the things that he was missing. The little luxuries that Greg had seemed like a world away from a blanket on the floor by the washing machine, and a cold wash in a sink. James had no life of his own at all, Greg had this little corner. And he had his medical talent - he could contribute something of his own worth, rather than just be an adornment to his master like James was.

He remembered when he first met Doctor Foreman. He has been taken from the training facility one day; put in a slave harness in a van with three other slaves and driven to a new location. He was put into a small room, furnished only with two comfortable chairs and told to kneel by the chairs and wait for prospective owners to come to him. A steady stream of potential buyers came to inspect him. A sales agent was present for each inspection, and James became used to hearing his attributes discussed in dispassionate terms. He was apparently pretty, docile, well trained, not overly bright but very obedient to simple commands. His physical health was good, and he had basic abilities in reading, writing and mathematics - enough to be of use to someone who might require a slave to help with paperwork, under supervision of course.

All the people who came had him strip for them, and most of them ran their hands over his body, some of them donned gloves and checked his genitals, and his asshole. The women asked for him to be brought to an erection. James had been fully trained in satisfying the sexual urges of both men and women but he had found himself hoping that a man would buy him.

Doctor Foreman had been brisk and business like with his inspection. He'd had James stand straight and still while he listened to his heart, and he'd conducted a thorough check of his flexibility. He told the sales agent that he was looking for a slave who was very responsive to orders, and who could hold himself well. He'd had James talk and seemed to approve of his voice, and had him kneel in various positions, and checked his ability to understand simple instructions. He wanted a slave who would be an asset to him as he started on a new position at Princeton-Plainsboro, and also one to keep his house clean and tidy as he would be working long hours. He had not checked James' sexual responsiveness and as he left James had thought that he would not mind if Doctor Foreman bought him.

Some time later he was led, leashed and cuffed, out onto a platform in front of a small crowd of people. A number on a placard was put around his neck and within three minutes he was purchased and taken down to a holding pen to await his new owner.

Doctor Foreman had been brisk and sure with him, he'd taken James home and stripped him of the clothes he had been wearing and given him new ones. James could see the difference between these clothes and the clothes he'd worn up to now. These were stylish, well made, he looked good in them. Doctor Foreman had taken him to the groomers for a haircut and had him outfitted with a new collar rather than the worn one he'd left the training centre with. Whenever they ran into someone Doctor Foreman knew, which seemed to be often, he would casually indicate with a gesture; 'my slave, Jimmy'

After only a few days at the house he'd been taken to originally Doctor Foreman had moved to New Jersey - and of course he'd brought James with him. Until he saw Greg's living arrangements James had been satisfied with his blanket on the floor, now he longed for something more.

James sighed; it was never going to happen - he wasn't a special slave like Greg to have such concessions made to him.

Moving on from the music player he surveyed the books. They were all either medical journals or textbooks. He tentatively picked up one of the textbooks - it was a massive bound volume, and he found, as he flipped through it, that it had lots of pictures of the human body and various organs and bones. He sat down on the floor of Greg's room and went through the book slowly, admiring the detail in the pictures. The text was a long way past his comprehension level of course but the pictures were fascinating. He traced the lines of one with his finger, there was something achingly familiar about it. He wondered if he had ever looked at books like this in his old life, before he was mind wiped. Probably not, he'd been a criminal then. He sometimes wondered what he'd done, what heinous crime he'd committed to be sentenced to being a slave for life. It was probably better if he never knew. He didn't know if even Doctor Foreman knew, whether his ownership papers had that sort of detail on them.

He didn't know how long he was engrossed in the book but he suddenly had the feeling of someone watching him and turned to see weary blue eyes regarding him.

"Enjoying yourself?" The gravelly voice was even, not friendly but Greg didn't seem angry either.

James swallowed, feeling his heart racing, although he didn't know why. Greg was another slave, just like him, he couldn't punish James for looking at one of his books. They didn't belong to him anyway, Greg himself had admitted that.

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to look." He apologised anyway, he'd learnt as a slave that everything was always his fault.

Greg sat up, pushing the blanket back and stretched, then scrubbed at his eyes.

"Knock yourself out, I'm going to take a leak." He stood up slowly and glanced at a light in the corner of the room that James hadn't noticed before now. "Keep an eye on that, if the dragon-bitch desires our presence that's how we'll know."

James stared at the light, horrified; he'd been engrossed in the book that he'd forgotten for a brief while that he was subject to the call of his master at any time. If the light had gone on he would never have known.

Greg smirked at him. "Don't worry, once the spider has entrapped her prey she likes to take her time devouring them, it will probably be a while yet - unless your master is quick on the drawer."

He limped off without waiting for a response and went into the tiny bathroom, shutting the door behind him. James kept staring at the light, every muscle tense. He hoped Greg wouldn't be too long in the bathroom.

Of course the moment he thought that the light came on. He called out to Greg to come now but there was no response. He dithered about going out there by himself and leaving Greg to it but instead flung open the bathroom door.

"Greg,. we have to go..." he trailed off. Greg was just tucking himself back into his pants, and James caught a quick glimpse of his penis before he zipped himself back up. Greg followed his gaze and smirked at him but didn't say anything. James remembered his desperate mission.

"The light came on, we have to go."

"Okay, okay, keep your shirt on. He's not going to have you whipped because you took a minute to show up. Her Ladyship knows that the gimp can't move that fast."

"Easy for you to say," James retorted. "You have no idea what Doctor Foreman will do to me."

Greg stared at him and then his expression softened. "You're right, I don't. Come on then, let's go see what they want."

Their masters were in the living room; Doctor Foreman was piling up some of the papers. When he saw James he looked at him sternly and flicked a finger. James swallowed heavily and went to his master's side, kneeling by his feet his head bowed.

"We'll talk about your tardiness later, Jimmy. Pack my bag."

James scrambled to comply. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Greg staring at him. The other slave had taken position behind Doctor Cuddy's chair where she was lounging, with a drink in her hand. He felt a moment of resentment that Greg hadn't apparently gotten into trouble for being late but then realised he didn't know that, who knew what would happen when they left. And Greg still had those lash marks on his back.

When James had the bag packed he returned to kneel at Doctor Foreman's feet.

"Go and put the bag in the car, get in and wait for me."

James did do, carefully stowing the bag correctly and then fastening himself into the slave harness in the back. He tightened the straps across his body so he couldn't move and then clicked the fastening which held all the straps at a central point. It could be quickly released in case of a crash or an emergency but ensured that the slave did not move around during transport and distract their owner. He waited miserably for Doctor Foreman to arrive and take him home and punish him for the sin of being slow to respond to a summons.


	6. Chapter 6

As the door closed behind Foreman, Cuddy held out her now empty glass. "Take this," she ordered her slave and waited until he'd grasped the glass to release it. Greg was moving slowly, as if he was still in pain which, no doubt, he was. She had no intention of punishing him for his slow response to her summons, he'd been her slave for a long time and she was used to his little rebellions by now. She had to leave him some room for dissent or she suspected he would simply cease to function at all someday. Of course it didn't appear that Jimmy was going to be as fortunate, but he was young, and Foreman was new to slave handling and still felt he had something to prove. A little discipline wouldn't harm Jimmy.

"You may run my bath, Greg, and then finish cleaning up until I need you again."

There was a moment of silence and then Greg nodded stiffly and went to the door. He hesitated and looked back at her. She thought he was going to ask for his Vicodin but he didn't. Instead he stood there awkwardly.

"What is it, Greg?" she asked impatiently, there was only so much latitude she was prepared to give him.

"Ma'am, it was my fault that James was late responding." This was said in a rushed mumble and while staring at the floor, as if he was embarrassed at showing some concern for Jimmy, it definitely wasn't because he was worried that he might be disciplined - that never stopped Greg.

"James? You mean Jimmy? Doctor Foreman's slave is none of my concern, and he most certainly is none of yours, Greg." Although she kept her expression severe inwardly she was amused. She had never known Greg to express any concern over another slave's wellbeing before. It was a strange loyalty to show considering that he had only known the other slave for a very short period of time. "Go and run my bath," she added dismissively and this time he went.

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"I am not accustomed to being kept waiting by a slave," Foreman said, as he stood over Jimmy. Jimmy was kneeling in front of him, his head bowed and his hands clasped together behind his back. "When I summon you, you will come immediately, whether we are here, at work, or visiting someone else. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir." Jimmy answered, keeping his head bowed.

Foreman looked down at his slave. Up until these last few days Jimmy had been as meekly compliant as Foreman had thought he would be when he had bought him. Although Foreman had only owned him for a couple of weeks he'd had no problems at all with him until the first day he started work at Princeton Plainsboro. Jimmy was a mindwipe so had no memories of life as a free man, all he knew was being a slave. Lisa's slave, Greg, was obviously not a mindwipe; he was much more forward than Jimmy, and much more inclined to push boundaries from what Foreman had seen of him. Lisa obviously had been giving him some leeway due to his medical abilities, and Foreman had to admit, from what he'd seen of the Diagnostic Department figures, and from what Lisa had told him about Greg's contribution to that Department, Greg was an extremely valuable slave, despite his discipline problems. However he could not allow Greg to be a bad influence on Jimmy, who had no such abilities. This defiance would have to stop, now.

"Push down your pants and underwear and bend over the table," he instructed his slave and went in search of a disciplinary instrument to use. He'd purchased a cane and had not yet had any reason to use it. It was time to change that.

When he returned to the room Jimmy was bent over the dining room table, his bare buttocks quivering in the cool air. From what Foreman could see of him he looked scared. Good.

He took his position behind the slave.

"Do you know what you are being punished for, slave?"

"Y..yes, sir." Jimmy answered, his voice trembling.

"Tell me."

"I was slow responding to your summons at Doctor Cuddy's house. I'm sorry, sir."

"Count the strokes aloud," Foreman commanded, "and thank me for each one."

He swished the cane through the air, it felt good. He'd never caned anyone before, but his old boss had demonstrated on Jimmy and it hadn't looked difficult.

Taking a firm grip on the cane he brought it down across Jimmy's buttocks, with most of his force behind it. A red line instantly appeared and Jimmy jerked and howled with pain. Maybe Foreman should have gagged him first. He waited but there was no count from Jimmy.

"I'm waiting for the count, Jimmy. Otherwise we will have to start again."

There was a few seconds of silence broken only by Jimmy's gasping breaths. Foreman was about to tell him that they were going to start from one again when a small, tear choked voice said 'One, thank you, sir."

Foreman frowned, unseen by Jimmy. He hadn't wanted to beat the daylights out of his slave, not for such a slight offence, maybe he'd used too much force. For the next blow he held back a little and this time Jimmy flinched but didn't scream. A nice red line appeared next to the first one and Jimmy counted without having to be told, "Two, thank you, sir."

Foreman added two more in quick succession with the lesser intensity of the second blow and Jimmy counted them off. There were four lines decorating his slave's backside, the first one bright red, the others fainter. Jimmy would be feeling these for a few days. Foreman didn't think he'd be slow to come when he was called for a while.

"Very well, assume your previous position."

Jimmy slowly stood up from the table and then stumbled a couple of steps to Foreman's feet and then knelt there, pants and underwear around his ankles, his genitals still exposed. He winced as his caned ass made contact with the back of his legs but made no complaint and settled down.

"I've been disappointed in you this week Jimmy, first your misbehaviour in the hospital, then this. What Doctor Cuddy does with her own slave is her business, but I will not tolerate slackness. Now get up, make yourself presentable again and go about your duties."

After Jimmy had hurried off Foreman retired to his bedroom. He'd call Jimmy in a moment to turn down the bed for him, and to reinforce the lesson that he must come quickly when he was called.

He found himself smiling as he changed for bed. It had been a good night with Cuddy, she'd been every bit as feisty, and insatiable, in bed as he'd thought she would be. This position at Princeton-Plainsboro should prove lucrative in more ways than one, he could learn a lot from Lisa, and no doubt he'd teach her a thing or two.

He picked up a remote from his bedside and pressed the slave call button, playing a chime which could be heard all around the small apartment. His slave appeared almost instantly, kneeling at his feet waiting for orders. He nodded in satisfaction and ruffled Jimmy's hair. Yes, it had been a good night.

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Greg knew as soon as he saw James that he'd been punished by Foreman the night before. Foreman came into Cuddy's office half way through the morning with James trailing behind him. Greg could see that he was moving gingerly and when he knelt he flinched as he sat back on his legs. While Cuddy was showing Foreman something on her computer James looked up briefly and met Greg's eyes. He looked tired, as if he hadn't slept much, and there was pain in his expression. Greg hoped that they'd be sent off for coffee so that he could talk to James and find out what had happened. Not that there was anything he could do about it. Slaves got punished and James had better get used to it. Foreman didn't even need a reason.

"I had a good time last night," Foreman was saying, his eyes on Cuddy as they bent their heads together over the computer. Safely out of sight behind them Greg rolled his eyes, then glanced at James and made a face. James stared at him with those wide fearful eyes and then cracked a small smile back.

Cuddy leaned into Foreman. "So did I," she said, her voice holding that seductive quality that Greg had witnessed over the years with countless suitors. Cuddy was great with getting dates, not so great with maintaining a relationship. Greg could have told her she was picking the wrong men, although Foreman seemed closer to her type than many of the dweebs she'd dragged home. Cuddy needed a bit of fire in her romance. She'd be impressed with Foreman whaling into James, even if she wouldn't bother for such a small thing for her own slave.

"We have that Board meeting at ten for the presentation, it will probably take most of the day," Cuddy said, her tone snapping back to the professional one she usually adopted. "I don't like to have Greg idle for too long so I usually send him along to the laundry or the kitchens when I don't need him, they can always use a slave. Would you like Jimmy to go with him, or do you want to take him to the Boardroom with you? Chairman Vogler likes to bring his slave along so the other members won't object."

Greg thought that Foreman would have probably liked just that - he seemed the type for whom appearances mattered a great deal, and James would certainly make an attractive little fashion accessory for him. However he figured that Foreman would be more interested in trying to score points with Cuddy at the moment; he found himself eager for Foreman's answer.

"No, as you say, no point in letting a slave be idle. Some hard work will do him good."

Greg managed to conceal his pleased smile. He glanced at James and saw a look of relief on his face, kneeling for hours was the last thing he'd want to do at the moment.

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By lunchtime the two slaves were pushing a laundry cart around the hospital. Or rather James was pushing it with Greg limping alongside and providing instructions. He knew every inch of the hospital, including all the shortcuts and secluded areas where they could take a few minutes breather. He guided James into one such area and signalled him to stop. Then, glancing around, he pulled something out from underneath his shirt and thrust it at James.

"Patient in the last room," Greg explained casually. "He's nil by mouth, what the fuck is he going to do with chocolates? He'll never miss them. Keep your eyes open, James. People leave all sorts of shit lying around a hospital, it's like they think there are no thieves around."

James stared at the brightly wrapped item Greg was offering him. He'd never had chocolate, well not since he became a slave, although he'd learned the word as part of his re-education and cooked with some while learning to prepare deserts. Slaves in the training facility were kept on strict diets, and frivolous foods were not included. He'd heard that it was supposed to be good.

"I got caned," he said angrily. "Because of you."

Greg at least had the grace to look a little abashed but then he shrugged and undid the wrapper on the chocolate.

"Do you want some or not?" He took a piece for himself and shoved it in his mouth.

James looked from the chocolate to Greg. He'd been expecting at least an apology but then he realised what Greg was doing.

"I got caned because of you so you're giving me chocolate?"

"Hey, it's good chocolate. Whoever that geezer's family are they didn't stint on the chocolate. Too bad it won't help him get better, he's toast, but at least they can say they've done all they could for him."

James stared at him and then couldn't help smiling, Greg was both annoying and compelling at the same time, he could waste his time getting angry with him or he could go along for the ride. He broke off a small piece of the chocolate and ate it. It was nothing like anything he could remember eating before; it was sweet, and delicious. His ass still hurt, and he was still a little mad, but he knew he could have left Greg and gone as soon as Foreman had called him. It had been his choice to stay.

"If that happens again, just go. Cuddy doesn't care if I'm five seconds late reporting for duty." Greg waved his cane around, "I have an excuse. Looks like Foreman has a stick up his ass about being the perfect Master. I've seen his type before. It's all show with ones like that. Give him a good show where other people can see it. Then get away with whatever you can when he can't see it."

Greg stiffened, as he glanced up the corridor. He shoved the chocolate back out of sight. "Come on, time to move on."

James could see a couple of people approaching and he straightened up and wiped his mouth quickly. He put his head down and began pushing the cart.

As they neared the end of the corridor he saw what Greg had seen, a man and a woman engrossed in each other in a small alcove. He realised as he passed that the man was Chase, the Doctor that Greg sometimes helped, but he didn't recognise the woman. He hoped to sneak past without being seen but Chase caught sight of them over the woman's shoulder and called them to a halt. This time James followed Greg's example and didn't kneel.

"What are you doing here, Greg? There are no patient rooms down this corridor. Don't tell me you're still showing this boy around the hospital?"

"Sometimes the labs have towels that need washing, sir," Greg answered easily, the 'sir' coming after a slight hesitation. James noticed the same tone in his voice that had been there before when he talked to Doctor Chase. This time Chase seemed to have heard it, he glanced at the woman he was with and then back at the slaves.

"On your knees while I'm talking to you, slaves," Chase ordered, as his hand made a gesture to the floor. James quickly sunk down, wincing as the cane marks reminded him of their presence but Greg stayed standing.

"Sir, we have to get this laundry done. We have orders from Doctor Cuddy." Greg placed an emphasis on Doctor Cuddy's name.

"Oh, let them go Robert, I need to get back to the lab in ten minutes, do you want to waste the time dealing with a couple of slaves?" The woman spoke up, her voice bored. She had barely glanced at them. "Let them get back to their laundry. You and I have more important things to do."

The doctor scowled and waved a hand at the slaves.

"Go on then, but if I catch you bludging again I'll report you both to Doctor Cuddy."

James got back to his feet and executed a slight bow towards both of the free people before going back to the cart and pushing it quickly out of range and around a corner.

"Brown noser," Greg said, but he didn't sound mad. "Getting in good with Chase isn't going to help you with anyone but him. Nobody has any respect for him; everyone knows his 'miracle' last minute diagnoses all come from me. The woman's new, haven't seen her with him before. Have to find out who she is."

"Does it matter?"

Greg looked at him surprised, "Of course it matters, knowledge is power James - the only power you're ever likely to have. Find out everything you can about what makes this place run. Nobody notices a slave, it's like we're a piece of furniture. You can find out all sorts of things. You never know when something will come in handy. Sometimes you need a bit of leverage over people."

"You've been here a long time?"

"Ever since Cuddy got made chief honcho here, about eight years ago. Nobody knows more about this place than I do." Greg said smugly.

Greg directed them down another corridor and they went past a nurse's station and into a brightly coloured area, there were murals on the wall, and even some balloons. James looked around him; it was like being in a different hospital.

"Paediatric oncology." Greg said quietly when he saw him looking around. "They dress it up to look happy and cheery so the little brats won't realise they're being poisoned. Watch out for the parents, keep your head down and don't interact with the kids."

They stopped outside the first room and James went inside to empty the dirty linen basket. A young girl lay on the bed, propped up so that she was staring at James as he went in. The child was bald, her eyes seeming huge in her face as she looked at James through a mask on their face. Tubes were running into her body and her parents sat at her bedside, their eyes fixed on her, their hands clasped with hers. Despite Greg's warning James stared at the girl. There was something achingly familiar about the scene, and the girl.

"What are you staring at, slave?" The girl's father looked at him angrily, getting to his feet. James looked from the girl back to the father, only then realising that he'd been motionless, caught up in the sight.

He sensed movement next to him and saw Greg coming in to pick up the linen basket, elbowing him out of the way and getting between him and the father.

"Just picking up the laundry, sir," Greg said, his tone was humble and submissive, and as James watched he seemed to make himself smaller. "Our apologies for disturbing you, sir." He passed the basket to James and indicated the cart with a nod of his head. In one smooth motion James emptied the basket into the cart and then pushed it along its way to the next room. He waited tensely for the man to call out after him but after a few seconds Greg reappeared and there was silence from the room.

"I told you not to look at them," Greg said quietly, as they went into the next room which was temporarily empty much to James' relief. "I didn't tell you to gawk at the nearest child like they were a sideshow freak. I can't be saving your ass every five seconds."

"Saving my ass... you're the one who keeps getting me into trouble!" James said indignantly as he picked up the dirty laundry and averted his eyes from the sight of Greg casually picking up a pen off the bedside table and secreting it away somewhere.

"What were you staring at anyway? The baldie?"

"Nothing. I told you... I just don't like hospitals."

Greg looked sceptical but gestured that they should keep moving and they went back to their laundry rounds. James tried to recapture that elusive feeling of familiarity he'd had looking at the girl. He wondered if it was connected to his past life, had he had a child who'd been sick in a hospital like this? Had he been a patient once? He sighed in frustration. Before he met Greg, while he'd been in the Slave Facility, he'd never really thought about what he'd been _before_ , he was a slave now, and that was all that mattered. Now, ever since he'd recovered his name - _James_ \- he couldn't help but wonder what type of man he'd been, and what he'd done to have such a punishment inflicted upon him. Had he once been a free person? Had he gone about his life without a collar around his neck, not having to answer to anyone? Maybe he'd been a slave who'd screwed up so badly he'd had to be mind-wiped so they could start again.

"Watch where you're going with that thing, you nearly ran over my foot," Greg pushed him gently and he realised he'd been meandering down the corridor with the trolley. He straightened up and focused on the task at hand. It didn't matter what he used to be, it only mattered what he was now. This was the reality he had to survive in.


	7. Chapter 7

Cuddy stalked back into her office and threw her papers down on the desk. Vogler had been as impossible as always. He'd brought a lot of money into the hospital, in exchange for being made Chairman of the Board. He regarded the hospital as just another business and despite his talk of 'curing cancer' he seemed more interested in using the hospital to further the business interests of his vast pharmaceutical empire.

He'd had another one of his seemingly endless stables of slaves at the meeting today, a pretty young female, wearing a revealing outfit and a wide collar that kept her head uncomfortably high. Vogler had her leashed by his chair throughout the meeting, kept in a rigid kneeling position by fine chains from collar to ankles. Cuddy disliked seeing slaves used as nothing more than ornamental devices, or for people to ogle over. Slaves were extremely useful commodities, something to employ productively, not to display. Greg had never been an ornament for her, he was a functional tool. Even when he'd been younger she'd never kept him around for decoration. She made use of him sexually of course. Her parents had bought him for her when she went away from home to college, and having him handy had been useful. But she'd never allowed him to be _just_ for sex, she'd always made him earn his keep. In fact she'd mostly stopped that use of him years ago when she'd found a better purpose for him, and had almost completely stopped when he became crippled. Forcing sex out of him now required chemical assistance as he seemed to have lost any ability to arouse himself. She rarely bothered. Instead she'd employed his medical savant abilities in service to both her career and her hospital. She'd prospered, and her hospital had prospered. That was a proper use of a slave.

Vogler appeared to regard Cuddy with the same contempt he regarded his slaves. He frequently made insinuations that she must have slept with someone to be appointed to the position, that she needed a man's guiding hand and that he knew infinitely better than her how best to run this hospital. It had been his millions that had made the current remodelling possible, but now he wanted to control where every brick was placed, and the allocation of every tongue depressor. He was constantly sniffing around the departments, trying to trim any that didn't bring money into the hospital. The free clinic was a constant source of argument between them.

She stabbed at her pager, summoning Greg back to her office. As she was sitting back in her chair and turning on her computer she heard a soft knock on her office door and looked up to see Foreman there, a rueful smile on his face.

"Is it safe to come in?"

"As long as you don't call me 'dear Doctor Cuddy'." She replied, waving him in to her office. "That man is impossible. Sometimes I wonder if his money is worth all this."

"Without it you wouldn't be able to do this remodelling, and that's going to turn this hospital into a major player on the East coast. You'll be able to attract higher profile Doctors, and they'll put PPTH on the map." Foreman pointed out. "At the moment this hospital is really only known for our diagnostic excellence."

Cuddy smiled. That particular quality of the hospital had been all her doing, and just how much of that success rate depended on a crippled slave wasn't something that was common knowledge outside of the hospital, or even inside it. Even Vogler didn't know that Greg was behind the diagnosis of some of their highest profile cases, and Cuddy wanted to keep it that way.

"Once everything is done, and you've spent his money and made this hospital great - then you can get rid of him," Foreman continued. "I can see he has no friends on the Board."

Cuddy glanced at the door but he had closed it behind him. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Don't say that outside this office, or in front of anyone else. Vogler has spies."

"Of course not, that _is_ the plan though?"

"Vogler has my loyalty, for now," she answered primly. "You'll come to dinner tonight? We need to go over the changes he wants made, and I'd rather do it with a bottle of red to make it more palatable."

The door opened again and Greg came in, with Jimmy as usual following close behind him. Greg went to stand behind her chair and Jimmy knelt in his usual place at Foreman's feet. Foreman spared him a glance and then answered her question. "I'm looking forward to it."

* * *

James took up the medical textbook again, while Greg lay back on the bed, trying to ease his leg into a comfortable position. They'd cooked dinner for Foreman and Cuddy; cleaned up, served wine and generally seen to their respective Master's every desire. Then Cuddy's dismissal had come and they'd been sent to Greg's room out of the way. Greg was glad that Cuddy wasn't into using slaves for kinky stuff - well not anymore, she'd used him that way a few times in college with her classmates, before she discovered she didn't really like sharing him around. He didn't know what Foreman's policy on the matter might be, but he hoped for James' sake that it was the same. He hadn't lent James out to anyone in the hospital yet anyway, despite having received several offers.

"I'll have to ask Cuddy for another bed in here if this is going to keep happening," Greg grumbled and James looked at him with those wide eyes.

"Joke," Greg said with a sigh. It was crowded with James in here but he didn't much mind. It had happened a few times over the years, when Cuddy had someone over who owned a slave, but mostly her suitors hadn't been so endowed. Cuddy liked being top dog, and being in control, so she usually went for lower ranked people, and she seldom had long relationships. She was usually good about allowing Greg to retire to his room while she was with anyone, although he suspected that it was more for her benefit than his. She'd talked to her friends once about how she didn't like having her slave around while she was with a man - she'd likened it to having her dog watch her having sex. She preferred that slave, and dog, be out of the way before she started. Whatever the reason was Greg liked it that way too.

He had found himself looking forward to Foreman coming over again, and James staying with him. It was good, in a way, to have someone he could talk to, more or less in private. James wasn't like any of the other moronic slaves who had come here, he was different.

"Just as well, we couldn't fit another bed in here anyway, we'll just have to make do with the one we have," James said, his attention going back to his book. "That girl, in the hospital bed. Why was she there?" he asked, flipping the pages of the book as if he could reach the right diagnosis by accident. Greg heaved a sigh and reached down for the book, taking it out of James' hands and turning it to the correct chapter before giving it back to him.

"She has cancer; she was getting chemotherapy, through a drip. It's like a poison, sometimes it stops the cancer growing, sometimes it doesn't. Mostly it just makes people's hair fall out - that's why scarves are a hot fashion accessory in cancer wards."

"Oh," James said, reading the beginning of the chapter, his finger below the line and his lips moving as he read along. He was clearly stumbling over the words. Greg was pretty sure they hadn't been concentrating on teaching anatomy and physiology in the Slave Facility. Well, not that sort of anatomy anyway.

"I can't understand this." James admitted, closing the book and looking disheartened.

"Well, it's not like you need a medical degree to shine Foreman's shoes for him and suck his dick."

"I want to be more than that," James snapped. " _You're_ more than that, I can be too. I may not be able to do what you do, but I can be more than just a mindwiped slave."

Greg regarded him. James would be happiest if he could just accept what he was and not try to be anything else; he wouldn't be doing him any favours by encouraging him. Greg's situation was unique - James would never be in the same position. The best thing he could do would be to get used to the grind of working sixteen hours a day, and obeying every order he was given, without thought.

He should back off and get some sleep while he could. He should leave James to his own devices; let him look at the pretty pictures, knowing that he would never understand them. Except James was looking at him with longing in those soft brown eyes, and Greg wasn't immune to the idea of someone wanting to learn what he had to teach.

He patted the bed next to him, he was sure that he was going to regret this at some stage.

"Get up here then, I can't sit on the fucking floor with you."

James gave him the usual startled look and then got up, bringing the heavy book with him. The bed was narrow but there was just enough room for him to sit next to Greg, their backs against the end wall, their legs stretched out on the bed. James opened the book on his lap and then looked up at Greg expectantly, as if he thought that Greg was going to reveal the wonders of the universe to him, all in one night.

Greg shook his head in despair at himself, and settled back to provide a Medicine 101 lesson, trying to ignore how close James was to him.


	8. Chapter 8

There was a small courtyard just off one wing of the hospital, enclosed on three sides by high brick walls and on the other by the door from the hospital that led into it. It was here that any of the slaves who worked in the hospital, or who accompanied owners who worked in the hospital, were permitted to come to eat their lunch - if they were fortunate enough to be granted a break, or indeed lunch. This was also the courtyard where whippings were conducted, in case the slaves should ever forget that there was no safe haven anywhere for them. Still, there was fresh air there, and a glimpse of the sky and the slaves went there any chance they could get.

Cuddy was usually fairly good about letting Greg break for lunch most days. She told him to keep some slave ration packs in a supply room near her office and would dismiss him to go and fetch some and take twenty minutes away from his work to eat them. When Foreman had discovered this arrangement he had set the same thing up with James so the two usually ended up having lunch together, if their masters weren't too busy to spare them.

There was a tap in one corner of the yard, and James took both of their chipped and stained cups over to it to get them some water and returned to the bench they were sitting on. Greg's leg was giving him trouble today and he sat hunched over, massaging it. He took the water James offered and took a large gulp.

"Cuddy was being a bitch about the Vicodin today - only gave me a half dose this morning."

And he'd get nothing until evening, James knew. It was given to him, or not, after he'd cooked the evening meal and cleared everything away. He'd been to Cuddy's enough now to know the routine. Cuddy kept Greg dangling on the string of Vicodin. Greg had told James how she gave him so much in the early days after his infarction that he became hopelessly addicted to it. Now she used it as a weapon against him, to keep him in line. Greg didn't elaborate on just why he was only given half a dose this morning, and James didn't ask - the reason really didn't matter all that much to either of them.

They ate their lunch quickly, breaks weren't long. The rations were the standard wafer type, which looked, and tasted, rather like cardboard but both slaves had become used to eating them and they were better than an empty stomach for the rest of the day.

A couple of the other slaves were in the courtyard but they kept their distance from Greg and James. Slaves generally weren't supposed to gather in groups. Even two slaves sitting together was frowned upon but Greg got away with a certain amount due to his status as being the slave of the Dean. The staff of the hospital generally left his discipline up to his owner, their boss, and the fact that she didn't play favourites was written in the scars on his back.

"How is your patient?" James asked, having finished his 'meal' and cleaned up after himself - leaving any food or wrapper debris in the courtyard was a punishable offence.

Greg scowled. "That idiot Aussie came up with a couple of decent ideas, but the patient isn't co-operating. Apparently he prefers to die rather than tell his doctor the truth. I told Chase to lean on him a bit harder but he doesn't have it in him."

"I wish I could help," James said wistfully and Greg shot him a sharp look.

"A few hours a week studying a medical textbook isn't going to make you a doctor you know. This isn't something you can just 'pick up'."

"I know!" James snapped. "I know I'll never know what you do, not if I study those books all day long. I'd just like to know a few more things than the best way to iron clothes, and how to clean a toilet." He looked down at the ground and then stood up. "Come on, we need to get back." He held out his hand and for a moment Greg just stared at it, he hated accepting help for his disability, although he gladly accepted Cuddy's concessions to his 'cripple' status. Then he grudgingly put out his hand and let James help him to his feet, holding him steady until he got his cane under him.

"Thanks," he muttered and then set off, not missing James' slight smile.

The courtyard was just off of the slave ward of the hospital, and down the corridor from the morgue so nobody lingered on the way to and from. As they were nearing the elevators James saw a large free man approaching from the other side, a slave walked a step behind him, on a chain.

"Crap!" he heard Greg mutter and then the man turned towards them.

James saw Greg kneel out of the corner of his eye, an act which was so unusual that for a moment James forgot that he should kneel as well. The man stared straight at him and James quickly dropped to his knees, bowing his head and placing his hands behind his back.

"You're Doctor Cuddy's slave aren't you?" He heard the man say, and was confused for a moment before he realised that the man was talking to Greg.

"Yes, sir. Greg," Greg answered, in an unusually docile tone of voice. Whoever this man was Greg was wary of him.

James felt a heavy hand on his head, and fingers running through his hair before tightening and lifting his head up so that he was staring straight at the man, his neck bent at an uncomfortable angle.

"And who is this pretty thing?"

"That is Jimmy sir, he's Doctor Foreman's slave," Greg answered before James could.

"And what are you two doing running around the hospital by yourself?" The man let go of his grip but continued to pet his hair and James tried to stay absolutely still. He noticed that the slave on the man's chain was also kneeling, her head down. As he looked at the chain he could see that it wasn't attached to the slave's collar, as was the norm, but to another chain running through rings placed in the slave's nipples. The slightest pressure on the chain would tug at the sensitive skin.

"Sir, we just finished our lunch, and we are returning to Doctor Cuddy's office."

The man chuckled. "Lunch for slaves, the world sure is changing. The next thing you know you'll be demanding minimum wage and penalty rates." He laughed and pressed the button for the elevator with his free hand. With his other he cupped James' chin. "Very pretty indeed. I'll have to see what I can do." When the elevator car arrived he entered, his slave at his heels. James and Greg stayed where they were, they wouldn't enter an elevator with a free person unless invited to do so.

After the doors had closed and the man was gone James relaxed enough to look at Greg. He was staring at the elevator shaft with anger. James wasn't sure what he was angry about.

Greg pushed himself to his feet, wincing as he took his weight on his cane. James got up more quickly.

"Who was that?"

"That was Vogler. Chairman of the Board, and bringer of one hundred million dollars, and Foreman, to the hospital. Otherwise known as a complete and utter bastard. He wants you."

"Doctor Foreman doesn't like to share me."

Greg gave a short bark of a laugh. "What Vogler wants, Vogler gets. Just hope he forgets about you as soon as the next pretty thing with a collar around its neck takes his attention. Unless you want him leading you around by a chain through your dick."

Greg's tone was as harsh as his words. It sounded like he was angry with him. James wasn't sure what he had done wrong. Greg stabbed the button for the elevator and they got in when it came.

Once the door had shut behind them Greg pressed the button to halt the elevator. He thumped his cane on the ground a couple of times and then sighed, rubbing his eyebrow with one the back of his thumb.

"Look, just try and stay out of his way okay? You think Foreman is bad? He's nothing compared to Vogler."

"I wasn't intending to ask him out on a date," James replied, still confused by Greg's apparent anger towards him.

Greg looked surprised and then a little amused. "Well, don't forget to pack the shark repellent if you do..." he trailed off and looked into the distance. Then suddenly his gaze sharpened and he smiled triumphantly. "Of course, that's it!" He pressed the button for the fourth floor, where Chase had his office.

"We're supposed to report back to Doctor Cuddy," James pointed out.

"You go. Tell her I'm busy. I've got a patient to cure, I'll iron her panties for her later," Greg said as he took off without a backwards look.

James thought about following him - what Greg was doing seemed a lot more interesting than going back to the office to fetch coffee - but after a brief hesitation he dutifully pressed the button for the ground floor; Cuddy might let Greg get away with a lot of things but Foreman didn't grant the same latitude to him, and he didn't want another session with the cane.

He translated what Greg had told him to tell Cuddy into more diplomatic terms and she nodded her acceptance and told him to go and fetch their coffee.

As he wrapped his hands around two coffee mugs he whispered the names of the bones of his hand under his breath - something he had learned yesterday from Greg - and smiled. He might only be a slave, and he might have to fetch coffee and clean for the rest of his life, but he knew the bones of the human hand and he could learn more. He would learn more.

Greg returned about an hour later, to report that he had successfully diagnosed the patient, who was now undergoing treatment. As he explained the process to Cuddy James listened intently - he could still only understand one word in three but at least he could catch a little of what Greg was explaining, although how 'shark repellent' fed into the diagnosis baffled him. Maybe Greg would explain the next time they had a chance to be alone.

* * *

The hospital annual fundraiser was the biggest event they staged every year. Cuddy both resented the amount of time planning it took up, and welcomed it for the revenue it would bring to the hospital. Every year she networked her ass off to find new donors, and keep the ones they already had. The fundraiser brought all that effort together. As one of Princeton's major social events all eyes would be on it, and they wouldn't hesitate to judge her for any mishap.

She would rather be spending her time on the hospital remodelling, or even, god forbid, on doing some actual medical work, rather than discussing with the caterers just how many bottles of wine they should allocate per table, but this was part of her job, and something she was damn good at.

She was in two minds whether to take Eric as her formal date for the event. Although they had been sleeping together since very shortly after his arrival at the hospital they had not yet made their relationship public. They hadn't especially taken steps to hide it, and she knew the hospital's gossip mill was rife with speculation, but neither had they formalised it in any way. Turning up to the fund raiser with her second in command on her arm would be a very public way of announcing that they were now a couple.

A couple. She turned it over in her mind, is that what they were? At first it had been about some casual sex, on both their parts she was sure, but over recent weeks it had grown to be something more. Eric was at her place more often than he was at his own home, although he still preferred to leave at night to return with Jimmy to his own apartment. He said that it was important for a new slave like Jimmy to have a solid routine and rigid discipline. Cuddy suspected that he thought Greg was a bad influence on his slave although he was too polite to say anything. Cuddy thought that he was probably right. But she enjoyed working, and sleeping, with Eric, and Jimmy was still a damned good slave despite, by necessity, spending a lot of his time with her Greg, who could by no stretch of the imagination be called a 'good' slave.

Cuddy smiled again as she glanced at Greg, who was currently filing away some papers for her, at a slow pace that indicated just what he thought of this chore. She'd find him something more unpleasant to do if he didn't get a move on with it. She knew Eric thought she was soft with her older slave, and that she let him get away with too much. Eric still seemed to doubt Greg's medical abilities, although he'd now seen him find a diagnosis for several patients, all of whom had seen many other doctors before coming here.

Greg hadn't been needed for a patient consult for a few days, after solving the last case successfully, and she could tell that he was getting restless, however hard she worked him he seemed to need that little bit of medical detective work to keep him...well, not happy, but functioning at a satisfactory level. She would have to see if she could find a patient for him if nothing turned up soon. She had assigned him to write up the last two patients for journals in any spare time he had but he needed more than that.

A soft knock on the outer door of the office distracted her attention away from the loitering Greg and she looked up to see Jimmy standing there, his head bowed.

"Come in, Jimmy," she summoned and he came and knelt before her desk. "What is it?"

"Ma'am, Doctor Foreman would be honoured if you would join him for lunch. He is currently in a meeting with Mr Manning from Accounting but will be free in thirty minutes. He also said to use this slave in whatever way you would like until then."

Cuddy raised her eyebrow at the phrasing and glanced up to see that Greg had stopped even pretending to file and was staring at Jimmy. She tapped her hand on her desk, dragging Greg's eyes to her.

"Greg, as you have so much time on your hands give the rest of those files to Jimmy and then go to the laundry, I'm sure they'll find you something productive to do and Jimmy will have those filed in half the time it would take you - won't you Jimmy?"

Jimmy stared at her and then his eyes flicked to Greg. He was obviously uncertain what to say. Eventually he settled for a quiet 'yes, Ma'am' before lowering his gaze to the floor.

Greg turned a bleak gaze on her and then complied, passing the files over to Jimmy before limping out of the room. She noticed that Jimmy watched Greg leave before settling back into his 'perfect slave pose'. Amused, she pointed her finger at the filing cabinet.

"File those, Jimmy and be quick about it."

The slave gulped and quickly rose to his feet and went over to the cabinets with the files and got to work.

Cuddy put the fundraising plans aside, the event was still weeks away, and picked up a budget report. There was just enough time to review that before her lunch with Eric. She would leave Greg down in the laundry for a few hours; Jimmy could serve her needs until then.

* * *

"Coming over for dinner tonight?" Greg asked James as they worked in the kitchens, peeling a stack of potatoes. Cuddy and Foreman were in a meeting with some lawyers and their slaves had been sent down to the kitchens to 'make themselves useful'.

Greg wished someone would get sick of some mysterious disease or other so he could have a break for a while; at least having James with him helped make the drudgery more bearable. The younger slave was still a mystery to him. He'd proven to be a very quick study of the medical texts they were working through when their 'masters' were together in the evening. Greg suspected that he'd been fairly well educated and intelligent before being mind-wiped. As he was beginning to relax a little bit James was also showing a lively sense of humour and a willingness to play along with Greg's various machinations.

"Oh I might, what are you offering?" James asked, his boyish face breaking into a smile as his sure hands deftly wielded the knife and produced another perfectly peeled potato.

"Thought we'd have a quiet night in, pizza and a movie," Greg said, glad that James was playing along.

"Sounds good, we can go bowling next week." James gave him another smile.

"Less talk, more work." The kitchen supervisor appeared out of nowhere and scowled at them. "Doctor Cuddy doesn't send you slaves here to lounge around and gossip. Shut up and get to work."

The supervisor watched them for a while and then her attention was caught by one of her minions yelling from the other end of the vast kitchen. Greg waited until she was out of earshot and then resumed his conversation with James.

"About time you invited me around your place; you're always coming over and eating my food."

Instead of answering him James looked down, his face reddening slightly in a blush; and he bent over his pile of potatoes.

"What, don't you want me coming around?"

To Greg's amusement James' blush deepened.

"I don't have a 'place'. All I have is a blanket on the ground to sleep on, next to Doctor Foreman's washing machine. I don't have what you have."

Oh, so that was what he was going all coy over, like he had any control over his own living arrangements. Greg was well aware that what he had was unusual for a slave, especially the books and music player, but to not even have a room to sleep in... Well, when Cuddy had been at college he'd slept in a slave dorm in the basement along with the slaves of the other rich kids and he'd had not much more than a blanket himself, but that had been a long time ago.

"Well, maybe you'll have something more when you've been a slave for thirty years," he answered, more harshly than he had intended, the memory of those college years sharp in his mind.

James gulped and looked back at his potatoes and Greg felt like someone who'd just kicked a puppy. Thirty years, and more, of being a slave would feel like a lifetime for James who'd barely been 'alive' a year. It had already felt like several lifetimes for Greg.

"Maybe Foreman will move in," he blurted out and kicked himself at the hopeful look in James' face.

"Do you think he might? That would be great."

Greg thought of his small room with the permanent addition of James and decided it wouldn't be too bad - as long as Greg got the bed.

"It hasn't happened yet with any of the men she drags home. She's more the 'catch and release' type."

"Oh."

James looked so disappointed that Greg tossed him a bone of hope. "But no-one has lasted as long as this for a while. Who knows? Maybe her taste runs to bald black guys with cute slaves."

"You think I'm cute?" James asked with a somewhat endearing shy smile.

He was spared having to admit, or deny, James' cuteness by the arrival on the scene of the supervisor who quickly grabbed both of the slaves and clipped a penalty chip on the d-rings of their collars. She scrawled a few words on the chips and stood back.

"I warned you once. Now, I don't want to hear another word out of you slaves or you'll be getting another chip on there and I'll call a guard to have you both gagged."

Random members of the hospital staff weren't allowed to discipline any of the slaves, either privately owned or hospital property, but the chips on their collars would advise their owners that their slave had been caught doing something they shouldn't, and punishment would be meted out. Greg had had enough chips placed on his collar during his life at PPTH to start his own poker lounge but James looked distressed. Probably rightfully as Foreman wasn't likely to be very forgiving.

Greg turned back to his work without looking at James and the two industriously peeled a few more potatoes under the steady gaze of the supervisor. Even when she was called away they kept working without talking, conscious of the chips dangling from their collars and her threat of another one. There were some things worth getting a whipping for, but having a chat wasn't one of them, there would be plenty of time for that tonight.

* * *

When they returned to Cuddy's office, where she was working with Foreman, both doctors immediately noticed the chips on their slave's collars. Cuddy groaned and pointed her finger at her feet where Greg knelt while she examined his collar.

"Talking instead of working," she noted.

Foreman was similarly examining Jimmy's collar.

"Same here."

"Talking to each other I imagine," Cuddy said. "What were you talking about, Greg?"

"Hospital procedures, Ma'am. Jimmy wasn't sure whether form 27-A should be filed with a copy of form 33-B or by itself and he didn't want to do it wrong."

Cuddy rolled her eyes at the sincere tone of her slave. Whatever the slaves had been discussing she was fairly sure it wasn't filing protocol, and she was equally sure that Greg knew that she knew that.

"So, that's a punishment for talking and another one for lying to me, Greg. Doctor Foreman, would you like to give Jimmy the same punishments?"

"I think that would be fitting, Doctor Cuddy."

"It's almost time to go anyway. Pack this stuff up, Greg. We'll deal with your and Jimmy's misbehaviour at home."

Cuddy watched as Greg started work. She really was not bothered by his apparent 'infractions' but discipline had to be seen to be maintained, she couldn't allow anyone to think that her slave could do as he pleased. She'd punish Greg and Jimmy tonight and then send an email to the kitchen supervisor tomorrow advising her that action had been taken.

She dismissed the thought from her mind and resumed the conversation with Eric that the slaves' return had interrupted.

Cuddy had picked a punishment fit for the 'crime'. As soon as they had walked in the door she had ordered Greg to go and fetch two gags and, once both slaves were kneeling in front of her, she had them gag each other. Both had seemed reluctant to do it to the other and she made a mental note that this strategy would be worth considering in the future. If she ordered James to administer a whipping to Greg it seemed it would punish both of them.

"The gags will ensure that there will be no talking tonight when you're working. Now go and make dinner, both of you."

They worked together in enforced silence. Luckily they had made dinner together so many times now that they still managed to work smoothly, silently sharing the task out with hand gestures and facial expressions. Although the gags were of a reasonable size they were still uncomfortable to wear. Greg hated having his jaws forced apart like this and he was sure from the miserable look on James' face that he did too. Greg toyed with the idea of freeing them both from the gags, they weren't locked on, but he knew that if he did so and they were discovered they would both be in a lot of trouble, Cuddy wouldn't hesitate to whip him for that.

The threat of a whipping wasn't normally enough to stop him do something he wanted to do, but now there was also James to consider. He felt strangely responsible for the other slave - James was so naive and vulnerable, almost a child in a man's body, reborn only a year or so ago, his mind blank. They'd trained him to be the perfect mindless slave, and Greg was undoing that. He was aware of how fragile his friendship with James was; neither of them had any control over their own lives. If Foreman left to work somewhere else James would go with him and Greg would most likely never see him again. If Greg pushed things too far their 'masters' might decide that it would be better if the slaves spent less time in each other's company. While Greg was confined to his room James could be left strapped into Foreman's car. Gone would be the pleasant hour or two most nights that they spent bent over Greg's medical books, sometimes studying, sometimes just talking.

No, it was best to endure this and get through the night, maybe Cuddy would take the gags off after dinner. He doubted it though; Cuddy was not usually half hearted about punishments.

He assembled the dinners on a tray and watched while James got the drinks ready. Together they took them out to the dining alcove at the front of the house and sat them on the table - Cuddy having indicated earlier that they would be eating at the dining table there instead of informally on the couch as they sometimes did.

He sat the plates down on the table and James carefully put down the glasses and poured out the wine. Cuddy sipped from hers and nodded her approval before dismissing them to go and clean up the kitchen.

Normally this was the time when they would quickly eat their own meals - as usual they'd made enough for themselves as well. With the gags still in place eating was out of the question. Again Greg was tempted to remove the gags but again he resisted the temptation. He did notice that James was staring wistfully at the food - he knew by now that Foreman usually fed James slave rations for his meals, and James appreciated the change of diet here.

James looked away from their uneaten meals and started cleaning the kitchen. Greg hesitated on whether to throw the meals out but then placed them in the refrigerator. Maybe Cuddy would let them have them later, when their gags had been removed.

Half an hour later they were both kneeling in front of Cuddy where she sat, relaxed, on the couch, Foreman sitting beside her with his arm around her. She checked both their gags and seemed satisfied.

"Jimmy, you will go now and kneel by the front door, facing it, and wait for Doctor Foreman to collect you later. Greg, you may return to your room, but you will remain gagged, you will work on the lecture notes for Doctor Chase that we discussed. I want to see substantial notes by the time I call for you again. If I'm not pleased with your work there will be a punishment."

James stared at her for a second and Greg realised that he felt similarly dismayed. Every night that Foreman had been here they'd been sent to stay in Greg's room for at least a portion of the night. Now, they wouldn't even have that time tonight. Greg hadn't realised just how much he'd looked forward to his tutoring sessions with James. Between the studying there had been conversation, or sometimes just a comfortable silence as they listened to Greg's little music player. Greg hoped that tonight wouldn't be the end of that pattern.

"Now, Jimmy!" Cuddy snapped, her voice hard and her eyes narrowed as James hesitated and James quickly stood up and hurried out the door. Greg also retreated quickly. When he got to his room he pulled out the papers he'd been working on but with his jaw aching and his mind troubled it was several minutes before he started work. His thoughts were on James kneeling out of sight at the front door.


	9. Chapter 9

"Doctor Cuddy!"

Cuddy turned reluctantly, recognising the voice of the person calling her across the lobby of the hospital. She was on her way back from a meeting with some insurance companies and was _not_ in the mood for dealing with Vogler. She smiled insincerely at him.

"Mr Vogler," she answered politely. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed that Greg had stopped and was kneeling by her side, as he always did when Vogler was talking to her - and when no-one else was. "What can I do for you?"

"I need to talk to you about the arrangements for the fund raiser. I'm lending three of my slaves to the hospital for the proceedings, they should bring in a few dollars, but I noticed that there are no other slaves listed on the roster."

"Greg will be helping out where needed as usual," Cuddy said, although she knew that wasn't what Vogler was referring to. Vogler had a large stable of slaves but was always keen to 'sample' other people's possessions. Some of the senior doctors who held a slave or two would lend them to the hospital for the night to raise money. Cuddy had not yet done the rounds to see who was prepared to offer their slaves up for 'entertainment' for the night. 

Vogler chuckled. "Gregory may be appealing to _you_ but I'm sure most of our donor's tastes don't run to crippled, middle aged slaves. I was thinking more along the lines of that attractive young slave that belongs to Doctor Foreman. With the right grooming and presentation he could be a drawcard. He's a mind-wipe I believe? They're usually very well trained and pleasing, if simple minded."

Cuddy felt, rather than saw, Greg twitch where he was kneeling, and she was fairly sure that it wasn't the pain of kneeling that was causing him discomfort. She wondered briefly if she'd done the right thing by allowing the two slaves to spend so much time together. It had seemed to settle Greg down somewhat, and also provided her with some handy leverage over the often troublesome slave, but there could be drawbacks to it. What disposition Foreman made of Jimmy was none of Greg's business.

She was also fairly sure that Eric wouldn't want his slave hired out for the night. He was fastidious in many ways, and the idea of his slave being used by a succession of other people would not appeal to him - he'd already refused many offers for Jimmy's services by hospital personnel. But Eric was also attuned to office politics and they did need to keep Vogler onside until after the renovation work had been done and they had no further need of him.

"'I'm sure Doctor Foreman isn't making as much use of his slave's services now that he is sleeping with you, Doctor Cuddy," Vogler continued, letting her know that he knew of their relationship. Not that it was any of Vogler's business who she slept with. "You may be able to... _persuade_ him to do the right thing by the hospital."

She had half a mind to tell him to take his millions and get the fuck out of her hospital just for those comments - but they still needed him. She gritted her teeth.

"I will talk to him about it. Now, if there is nothing further, I have an appointment at two."

"Of course Doctor Cuddy, carry on," he said, as if she were a slave herself, and walked off. She stared after him, wondering if he could feel the knives in his back.

Greg got to his feet with his usual struggle. "You need to get rid of him; he's going to destroy this hospital," he said bluntly, if quietly.

She knew that Greg had been here as long as herself, and had intimate knowledge of all the hospital's workings - a side effect of all the hours he spent in her company and working for her - but he very rarely expressed any sort of opinion, let alone one as direct as that. She stared at him and he lifted his chin defiantly.

"Go into my office, put your cane on my desk, drop your pants and stand in front of the desk waiting for me," she said to him firmly. She couldn't allow him to get away with comments like that - even if she agreed with him.

He stared at her for a moment and she thought he was going to refuse, which would mean calling security and an official whipping, but then he stalked off, obviously angry.

She lingered by reception for a couple of minutes picking up her messages to give him time to stew and then went to her office. She didn't bother closing the door - it never did her reputation any harm when people saw her disciplining her slave.

Greg had put his cane down as ordered and was standing in front of the desk but his pants were still firmly fastened.

"Pants _and_ boxers then, and another stroke for disobedience."

He still hesitated but finally pushed the clothes down around his ankles and stood there, both his genitals and the hideous scar on his right leg exposed. She took a moment to stare, knowing how much he hated that, and then tapped the desk.

"Bend over."

When he was settled, ass pointing towards the open door, she picked up his walking cane. It was lightweight, and designed to both be a support for a crippled slave and an instrument of punishment for the same slave.

She didn't believe in staging dramatic scenes with slaves, just efficient punishment, so she quickly delivered four strokes across his ass, strokes which he took stoically and with only a slight twitch. She took a quick look at the four red welts which had formed and then told him to pull up his pants and resume his usual station behind her desk. 

She went back to work - she'd talk to Eric about Jimmy's role in the fundraiser tonight.

* * *

Greg's discomfort when he was sitting on his bed that night didn't escape James. Greg had been distracted and restless all through his lesson tonight.

To James relief after that one night when he'd been gagged and had to kneel by the front door for the whole evening their usual pattern had been resumed. His master spent so much time in Doctor Cuddy's house now that James wondered if he had thought about moving in, or at least sleeping over sometimes. Sometimes he made little fantasies for himself about that happening. He'd share this room with Greg - he didn't dare hope for a bigger one - and they'd help each other with the household duties. He'd be able to get a lot more studying done and he could help Greg with any heavy work. They'd be together every night, all night, and Greg could teach him so much. The more he learned the more he wanted to learn, about medicine, and about the world beyond his slavery. 

He'd thought that Greg quite enjoyed his company too; although he often grumbled and complained about it he seemed to relax a bit when he was alone with James, showing a warmer side to his nature than he did at the hospital.

Tonight, though, it seemed that he didn't want James there at all.

"Is something wrong, Greg?" he asked, worried by his friend's distraction. "We don't have to do this tonight if you aren't feeling well."

"Giving up already? You'll never become a doctor like that, _Jimmy_ ," Greg snapped at him.

"I'll never be a doctor anyway," James pointed out. "I'm a slave."

"I know you're a fucking slave. You make it pretty damned obvious."

"The collar does tend to give it away." James fingered his collar, it was light but secure. Foreman's name, address and phone number were in fine print on the outside, just as Cuddy's were on Greg's. The collars were more symbolic than functional - all slaves were micro-chipped for easy retrieval if they decided to run away - but the penalty for a slave removing their collar for any reason was at least fifty strokes of the whip and a mandatory retraining session. Nor was a slave ever allowed to cover up their collar, lest they be mistaken for a free person.

"It's not just the collar; it's the way you kiss everyone's ass."

Yes, Greg was definitely in a mood tonight - he usually only got like this when he had a case he couldn't solve. James had witnessed him snarling at Chase more than once, probably the only person in the hospital who would tolerate it - besides James.

He shut the book he was studying. Leaving wasn't an option, unless he wanted to aggressively stalk into the tiny bathroom, but he could see he wasn't going to get any work done tonight.

"Is it your leg? Is the pain bad tonight? Would you like me to massage it?" He started to reach for Greg's leg but Greg jerked it away with a hiss.

"I'm always in pain, but it's not my _leg_ you'd have to massage."

James studied him and then suddenly realised why he was shifting around restlessly.

"Doctor Cuddy paddled you?"

"Oh no - she used a cane, it was all sorts of kinky fun, you should have been there."

"Why were you being punished?" James asked. He refrained from saying that he wished he could have been there, in Greg's place, taking the caning for him - Greg would think that was stupid.

Greg looked away, not answering and James sighed. He guessed it didn't matter why Greg was caned anyway. Physical punishment was a part of all slave's lives, however well trained and compliant they might be - and Greg was neither of those things.

"Pull down your pants, let me have a look," he said, getting up off the bed.

Greg stared at him.

"I want to make sure that there's no infection - call it on the job training," James continued. "Practical, hands on experience."

There was really no medical necessity for him to stare at Greg's ass, they both knew that, but he wanted to do it anyway. He wanted Greg to know that someone cared what the hell happened to him. He kept staring steadily at Greg and finally Greg pushed his pants down and rolled over on the bed.

There were four cane marks across Greg's ass, each one straight and firm. They were red and angry but not inflamed.

"You can just stare at them or you can put some of this on them," Greg said, handing over a tube of ointment he'd retrieved from somewhere. James had become used to Greg having a variety of things hidden away so he accepted the analgesic cream without comment.

He squeezed out a little onto his fingers and then began smoothing it onto the welts. Greg hissed once and then went silent as James went to work.

"Maximus Gluteus," James murmured as he applied the cream, trying to break the odd tension that had come up between them, "Gluteus Medius, Gluteal cleft."

"Congratulations, you pass Butt Anatomy 101," Greg said, but James could hear a smile in his voice.

"Did she let you have your Vicodin at least?" James asked as he finished up.

Greg snorted, "Cuddy doesn't believe in painkillers after a punishment. If I'm lucky I'll get one before I got to bed."

If he didn't he'd be awake all night, James knew. "Bitch," he said forcefully. Greg stared at him in surprise.

"Now James, what would Master Foreman do if he could hear his sweet slave calling his fuck buddy that?”

"I don't care," James said.He was pleased that he seemed to have improved Greg's mood at least, Greg always liked it when he showed some defiance against free people, even if it was in the relative safety of this room.

"Are you finished, or are you going to play with my ass all night?" Greg asked and James realised he'd been sitting there with his hand still on Greg’s butt. He jerked his hand away and muttered a 'sorry'.

Greg pulled his pants back up and sat up. He was about to say something when the signal light went on.

"Foreman was quick tonight, hope he didn't fire too soon and leave Mistress Cuddy hanging - she's like a bear with a sore head when she doesn't get any." Greg was quick on James' heels as they left the room and James felt a warm rush of pleasure when he realised that Greg was hurrying for his sake so that he wouldn't get in trouble with Foreman.

* * *

Foreman wasn't pleased when Cuddy asked him about lending Jimmy to the hospital for the fund raiser. He wasn't naive; he'd been to other functions where there were slaves available to be hired for the night, or for a session. He realised that Jimmy was an attractive slave, that was one of the reasons he’d picked him out himself. The mind-wiping had produced an air of innocence to the slave which was missing in an older, more cynical slave, like Greg. 

It wasn't that Foreman was even using Jimmy much himself at the moment. Now that he was with Lisa he was only using the slave for a quick warm up in the morning. He hadn't fucked him since shortly after meeting Lisa, and he wouldn't while they were together. He didn't think it was right, although he knew many couples didn't object to their partners using slaves when necessary.

No, he just didn't like to lend his belongings, he never had. He'd worked too hard to earn enough money to buy the best slave he could afford and he didn't see why he should let other people take advantage of that - even if it was to raise money for the hospital. Besides, one of them might damage Jimmy and put him out of action, and Jimmy had proven himself to be very useful, both around the apartment and at the office. He was coming along nicely under Foreman's tutelage, and he wouldn't want to have to start over with a new slave.

Lisa had used her many powers of persuasion on him and he'd ended up agreeing to add Jimmy to the roster. It had somewhat soured the mood of the evening though so he'd called it a night early, picked up Jimmy and left.

Once in the apartment he signalled for Jimmy to fetch him a snack and a drink and turned on the television, making himself comfortable. Jimmy returned quickly with the requested items and then knelt by his chair, waiting for further instructions. Foreman left him there for a while, the slave would probably enjoy ten minutes of watching television, even if was a mindless medical drama, before he went back to work and he'd been good enough lately to earn a little treat. On an impulse he took a morsel of food from his plate and offered it to him. Jimmy looked surprised, Foreman wasn't in the habit of hand feeding him, but took it readily enough. He really was a good slave; Vogler had better take good care of him.

* * *

"Where are you going, Greg? We're supposed to be going to the laundry." James pointed out as he followed Greg through the hospital corridors.

"Shortcut," Greg declared breezily as he dodged past an orderly wheeling a bed. It always amazed James how quickly Greg could move when he wanted to.

He didn't see any way that cutting through radiology on the third floor could possibly be a shortcut to the laundry, which was in the basement, but after a brief moment of indecision he shrugged and followed Greg - it wasn't like he _wanted_ to go to the laundry after all, and Greg was good at making up reasons for their presence if they were questioned.

He was hurrying to catch up with Greg when he dodged around a wheelchair in the corridor and ran into a doctor hurrying in the other direction. He fell heavily to the ground.

"Doctor Wilson? James? Is that you? What are you..." he heard someone say and looked up to see the doctor looking down at him, one hand outstretched to help him up. He saw the other man's eyes flick to his collar and realisation come over him, the hand was hastily withdrawn and James struggled to his knees.

"My mistake - I thought you were someone... “the doctor said, his face reddening and then he quickly turned and went, without another word. A few people had stopped and were staring and then suddenly Greg was there.

"Get up," he said quietly.

James struggled to his feet, his wrist hurting where he'd put his hands out to break his fall.

"Come on, quickly, let's go," Greg said and started back the way they'd come - his mission on the third floor apparently abandoned.

"He called me Wilson, _Doctor_ Wilson," James said. "He knew me, from _before_. I need to talk to him. He can tell me..."

Greg looked at him intently. "Forget about it."

"But..."

"You need to forget it, and hope he does."

"But he might know what I did, and who I am."

"You're not _supposed_ to know! That's the whole point of the mind-wipe. You start figuring out who you were before, and what you did, and they'll ship you back to a Facility to have what's left of your brain destroyed. And when they've done that they'll send you on to some other Master. Foreman will get your sales value back, and buy himself another pretty slave."

If he got taken away from here he'd never see Greg again. James fell quiet, his mind reeling. He so wanted to know, but he didn't want to leave here.

The elevator arrived at its destination and they walked down the corridor towards the laundry where they were to spend their afternoon.

"Somebody screwed up. If you used to be a doctor you shouldn't have been sold to another one - too much chance of you colliding with your old life, and now you've managed to do it - literally. You have to hope that guy doesn't blab to anyone. Or that he was wrong and you just look a bit like this James Wilson guy." James could tell Greg didn't believe that.

They were at the laundry door so they fell silent as they reported in for work. James felt bruised from his fall, and stunned from what had happened.

Wilson, that guy had called him Wilson. James Wilson. And most importantly he'd called him a doctor. James had hated hospitals since the first time he'd entered one with Doctor Foreman, only a few months before, but he loved learning about medicine. Now he understood why some things had felt familiar, the little girl having chemotherapy, the pictures in the textbooks. He wondered what sort of doctor he had been.

The free person in charge of the laundry handed them both massive bags of washed linen which James dragged onto the trolley. They wheeled it down to a small, windowless room where they would take out the sheets, press them and fold them into neat rectangles. Good mindless work for slaves who couldn't handle anything complicated, James thought bitterly. At least they were alone here.

"We could tell Doctor Cuddy that I used to be a doctor. I could learn again, I could help you." James said.

"Didn't you listen to what I said? And why would Cuddy bother to have you retrained? How long would that take? You tell her you'll be getting a whipping for being insolent and then a trip back to the Facility." Greg seemed almost desperate as he extracted a pile of sheets from the bag and began pressing them. "Keep your mouth shut about it. I'll try and find out whether that doctor blabs to anyone, you stay out of his way."

James still felt stubborn about it, if Greg could have some value to the hospital for his medical skills why couldn't he?

"Look, I wish you could help me. I wish I could have one of those fancy offices and you could have the one next to me. I wish we could work on cases together. I wish we didn't have these damned," Greg tugged at his collar, "things around our neck. But it's not happening, not in our lifetime. You need to accept that. I know how things work."

"I still want to keep studying medicine," James said at last. He took the pressed sheets from Greg's hands and began to fold them. "I want you to keep teaching me."

Greg ran a hand through his short hair and then finally nodded. "Yeah. We can keep doing that. Just... don't ever let anyone know, okay?"

"I won't." James folded another sheet. "I'm glad Doctor Foreman bought me." He looked at Greg, making sure Greg understood what he was saying.

Greg swallowed hard and then nodded. "Yeah, me too."

James give him that little smile that he did, the one that made Greg want to do anything that he asked, and went back to folding the sheets. They worked in silence for a couple of minutes and then James muttered quietly, "But I still want to know who I was."

Greg shook his head in despair.


	10. Chapter 10

He'd been Gregory John House for the first twelve years of his life. Son of Colonel John House, and of Blythe House. His dad was a marine pilot so his life had included constant moves, and a succession of military housing complexes.

He'd adored his dad until he was about five, and he'd wanted to be just like him when he grew up. Then something changed. His father began to be harsh with him, enforcing a strict set of rules, the slightest infringement of which resulted in harsh punishment. He was often banished from the house for the night, left to sleep in the yard outside for some trivial offence. He endured ice baths and beatings at his father's hands. His mother began to spend more and more time away from home, visiting her family.

Greg began to get into trouble at school, and with the law. By the time he was twelve he'd been before the courts twice, racking up two criminal convictions. Under the three strikes policy for juveniles one more and he'd be declared uncontrollable and taken away from his parents and enslaved for life.

During his twelfth summer his Mom went away for a weekend, visiting her Mom. Greg broke into a neighbour's home and stole cigarettes and alcohol, and his father discovered it. He threatened to turn him over to the police. Greg scoffed - if Dad did that then his son would be enslaved - and however much they hated each other he knew Dad wouldn't let that happen.

There was a lot of shouting and Dad finally cornered him and gave him the worst belting of his life. Towards the end Greg got in a good kick to his father’s nuts. His father doubled over in pain and Greg took his chance and ran down the stairs. He found the door locked and by the time he’d made his way to the back door Dad was there. He grabbed Greg in an arm lock, twisting his arm far behind him so that Greg couldn’t move. Then he told Greg how ashamed he was of him; how sick it made him feel to have a son like Greg.

With tears of pain running down his face Greg had screamed back at him that he wasn't his son anyway. That he knew John wasn't his real Dad. He'd figured it out from his Dad's old log books - he'd been away when Greg had been conceived. Greg was a bastard child, and glad of it. 

He thought Dad would give him another thrashing but instead the man had gone quiet. He dragged Greg into the kitchen and fixed the dog’s collar around his neck and tied his hands with the leash. Then he hauled him into town; straight to the local slave traders. The traders laughed when they saw the collar and leash, they said half their job had been done already.

Dad sold him there and then.

When Greg realised what was happening he pleaded with his Dad, but the man wouldn’t listen. He took his money, signed the papers and left. Before leaving he told Greg it made sense. Greg would never get through his childhood without another conviction, and if he was taken away forcibly by the law his parents would get no money. At least this way John got some money back for raising another man's son.

Greg was taken down to a holding cage, shaking in fear, and then shipped out early the next morning to a training facility for young slaves. He spent the first two weeks in constant trouble, he was expecting his Mom to show up and take him back, and he wasn't going to learn to be a stupid slave. She never came and the discipline made John's efforts look feeble. By the time he turned thirteen they'd made him into a slave. When he was fourteen he was sold for the first time. When he was twenty he was sold to Lisa Cuddy's parents.

He never even thought the name 'House' after his first sale - he was just Greg. Even when he had the chance - many years later - to find out information about his parents he never tried, his family was dead to him. It was better that way.

It would be better if James forgot he ever existed before he was a slave - Greg knew that. Thinking about what he once was, and what he had lost, would do nothing but make him unhappy.

On the other hand, it didn't matter if Greg found out about his history. Knowledge was power as he had told James. And James was a puzzle, and Greg liked solving puzzles.

He waited until Cuddy had been asleep for an hour and then cracked the door to his room open. Normally he kept it firmly closed while he was in here, the only bit of privacy he ever got. Now he opened it so he could hear the slightest sound from upstairs, where her bedroom was.

After hearing nothing for another ten minutes he went to the wall behind his bed and carefully eased out the false panel. It had taken a lot of time and effort to build that but it was worth it. Concealed within the space was a small netbook computer. Stolen from a visitor to the hospital and smuggled out one night a year before; buried in a box of files he'd brought home for Cuddy. It had been a huge risk but it had been worth it.

He booted up the computer. He rarely used it because of the risk of being discovered but sometimes, when the pain was bad at night and he desperately needed something to keep himself sane, he took it out and spent the night on the internet. On there, no-one knew he was a slave.

Cuddy never changed the password on her Wi-Fi so that was no problem and within minutes he was engrossed in research. James Wilson wasn't an uncommon name but combined with his being a doctor it wasn't hard to find the story.

Wilson had been working at a hospital in Canada when he'd been accused of murdering one of his patients. His colleagues had reportedly been shocked, Wilson had been highly regarded in his field, and well-liked by staff and patients alike. He was considered a rising star in Oncology - bound to be a Department Head in the next few years. No-one had a bad word to say about him. It had come out at the trial that one of his brothers was mentally ill, but Wilson had never shown any signs of the same illness.

The evidence against him had been strong, and Wilson had been convicted of murder. He'd been sentenced to mindwiping and enslavement rather than life in prison and as part of a prisoner exchange with the United States had been sent back to the States for the sentence to be carried out.

Greg looked at the pictures and video attached to the news article - there was no doubt that this man was the James he knew. There was a short video of him being hustled into a courtroom and he looked shocked and bewildered. He paused the video and looked at the man staring out of the screen for a long time. It was strange to see James without a collar around his neck, and without that submissive look that marked him as a mindwiped slave. The blankness that he had first possessed when he came to Princeton was gradually dissolving and he was beginning to show some signs of personality, but he was a long way from the freeman in the video.

Greg tore himself away from the video and kept clicking around, checking into James' education. It was impressive; he had been well on his way to a distinguished career as an oncologist when he had inexplicably turned into a murderer. Greg wondered what had made him snap. The patient he had killed had been rich, and there had been rumours that he was involved with organised crime, including, ironically, a black market slave trade. If he had been a mobster being sentenced to mindwiping had probably saved James from being murdered in jail. 

Further investigation revealed the link between James and the doctor who had recognised him - Doctor Holling from Pediatrics. They'd been interns together at James' first hospital. Greg didn't know if Holling knew the story of what happened to Doctor James Wilson, or if his shock had come from the sight of his former colleague wearing a slave collar. Although he'd listened hard to the rumour mill since that encounter he'd heard no mention of it. Maybe James was safe. Greg hoped so, the prospect of James being taken away from here was something his mind shied away from. Greg had never made a connection with anyone like he had with James - either while he was free, or since he'd been a slave. He had thought that he had no ability to care for anyone; James had proved that he did. It was too much to hope that James would be in his life forever, but he wasn't ready to lose him just yet.

He glanced at the time on the computer screen. Two hours had passed. Quickly he shut down the computer and slid it back into its hiding place, taking care to replace the panel so that not a crack showed. Cuddy didn't search his room often, and when she did her inspections were usually cursory. He made sure to always have one or two small items of contraband carelessly hidden that she could find easily. A few spare Vicodin, or a stash of chocolate bars, meant a paddling or caning, but after finding them she didn't bother looking further.

He turned off the bare light over his bed and lay down on the bunk. There were only a couple of hours left before he had to get up and start the morning's work. Even so, it was a while before he could get to sleep.

 

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James was busy in Doctor Foreman's office, carefully copying some figures from the computer to the files laid out on the table. Doctor Foreman had been called down to the new wing to sort out some dispute or other. Normally James would have gone with him but instead Foreman had given him cursory instructions and told him that he expected the work done by the time he got back. He didn't often leave James alone, or instruct him to do anything but menial work so James diligently got to work - he hoped that one day Doctor Foreman would treat him more like Doctor Cuddy treated Greg.

As he worked his attention wavered. He'd seen Doctor Foreman using the computer to do research, as well as to check on various companies and people that he encountered. He didn't know that much about it, but he wondered if he could put his own name into the computer and see if he could find anything out about himself.

He glanced at the door. He didn't know how long Doctor Foreman would be, and he realised that using the computer to do unauthorised research, especially into his own history, would be a grave offense. Greg had said he should forget about it. But that was easy for Greg to say. There was someone here, in this hospital, who knew about him. His tone had been astonished but friendly until he realised that James was a slave. He hadn't berated James for knocking him over, or clipped a chip on his collar instructing his owner to punish him. Maybe he'd once been a friend.

He clicked away from the spreadsheet he was on and saw the screen behind. There was a box labelled 'search'. He started to laboriously type James Wilson into it.

"What are you doing?" His head jerked up and he snatched his hands off the keyboard before he saw Greg standing in the open doorway.

Greg glanced behind him and then came into the room. He looked at the screen. Cursing, he reached out and quickly pressed a sequence of keys, bringing the spreadsheet back up.

"You can't just search like that. It leaves a history, he'll know what you've been doing, you moron. I told you to quit it."

"You'd do it," James said, annoyed at Greg.

Greg looked at him, a strange expression on his face.

"Yeah, maybe I would, but I'd do it so I wouldn't get caught. You have a lot to learn about being sneaky. Do you want to get whipped?"

"Maybe I wouldn't have gotten caught."

Greg snorted, "yeah, right." He reached over and picked a file up off the desk. "Cuddy sent me here to get this; I've got to get back. Look, don't do anything stupid. I found out some things. I'll tell you tonight if Foreman comes over for a booty call. Okay?"

James was startled; he didn't know that Greg had been looking into it himself. For a moment he felt stubborn but then he conceded. He really didn't want to get whipped, or jeopardise his place here. "Okay," he said.

Two minutes after Greg left Doctor Foreman returned and his slave, James presented the figures to him, receiving a cool nod of acknowledgment from his Master.

 

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"What do you think they do in there?" Foreman asked after the slaves had been sent away. Their meal had been professionally prepared as always, the dirty dishes cleaned away and their drinks served by their slaves. As she usually did Lisa had sent them to Greg's room, she'd told him before that she disliked having her slave around when she was with someone. Foreman had never objected to Jimmy being dismissed, if Lisa didn't like having Greg around while she was with him, he expected that she wouldn't like Jimmy any better.

Lisa curled up by his side, her small form fitting nicely against him. "As long as they aren't bothering us does it matter? Sometimes it's nice to have a break from having responsibility for a slave. Keeping Greg in line, and occupied, is a constant battle and he does get tiresome. Having Jimmy around seems to be good for him, I've only had to discipline him a few times since you came, maybe being around such a well behaved slave has been a good example for him." 

Foreman frowned. Although he had no doubt that Jimmy was a good influence on Greg he wasn't sure the same applied in reverse. Not that he'd had any reason to doubt Jimmy's commitment as a slave - his own apartment was just as spotless as Lisa's house, and Jimmy was competent at preparing meals, running Foreman's bath, and doing all the other household tasks he was set. Add that to a growing usefulness at the hospital and Jimmy was almost the perfect slave - and he wanted to keep it that way.

"Do you think we should try to keep them separated more? Slaves really shouldn't be spending so much time alone with each other." He'd ordered several books on slave keeping when he bought Jimmy, nearly all of them had stressed how important it was for a slave to be as isolated as possible, so that they became completely dependent on their Master or Mistress. Only one of the books had a more liberal approach, advocating a sort of 'free-range' slave philosophy, espousing the view that giving a slave more freedom would lead to a better performed slave. Foreman had donated that one after reading only a couple of chapters. New age nonsense. Jimmy needed a tight rein, and that's what he had given him, except for the few hours he spent at Lisa's.

"Keeping them apart is going to be difficult when you move in," Lisa said. "Let them go, if they start acting out we have the perfect punishment for them."

He stared down at her. "I'm moving in?" He'd thought about it of course, there'd been seeing each other for months now, and going home to an empty bed after spending the evening with Lisa was getting less and less appealing.

"I've got plenty of room. It would be nice to spend the night with each other instead of you coming for dinner and sex and then going. After the Fund Raiser perhaps? It will give the whole hospital something new to gossip about."

"Well, when you put it like that..." he smiled and bent his head to kiss her, his concerns about Jimmy forgotten.

 

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"I'm a murderer?"

They were both sitting on Greg's bed. James had listened intently as Greg had told him what he'd found out. James didn't ask how, he knew Greg had many methods of gaining information. Maybe one day he'd share them with James, but for now all that mattered was what he was saying.

He'd known, of course, that he must have done something terrible. They didn't enslave people for jaywalking. He could have fallen foul of the three strikes rule, but that seemed unlikely as he'd been a doctor, not some minimum wage guy on the streets. But knowing that, and hearing that he had been convicted of killing a patient, well, they were two different things.

Even the explanation that his patient had been involved in criminal activity himself was hardly comforting. Had he been involved with this patient somehow? Had the guy been threatening to turn him in so he'd killed him so that wouldn't happen? Greg didn't know, there wasn't a lot of detail online, there were many murders, and it only made the news in the first place because of the unusual circumstance of a doctor killing a patient.

"Well, technically, you were but it's not like you were a serial killer or something. And hey, patients can be pretty annoying. Pretty sure if I'd been a doctor I would have killed one or two."

"It's not funny!" James snapped. "That's my life you're talking about. I'm a killer."

"No," Greg shook his head, "you're a slave. When they made you a slave your criminal record became irrelevant. All that makes you different to us other scum is that you can never be freed. As if you ever would be anyway." Slaves could be freed, in theory, in practice they almost never were - why would anyone bother? If someone had enough money to buy a slave they weren't going to waste it by then freeing him or her.

"I killed someone, Greg."

"You're not that person anymore; the mindwiping took care of that, like it was supposed to. You can't remember anything from your old life can you?"

James shook his head. He sometimes had vague feelings of familiarity, as he had in paediatric oncology with that little girl, but nothing concrete. Even when Greg told him about his trial he'd remembered nothing. He really wasn't that person anymore. Whatever it was that had driven him to kill didn't exist now.

"I shouldn't have told you. You're going to obsess about this now aren't you?"

"No." James shook his head. "You're right. What Doctor James Wilson did in some Canadian hospital doesn't matter. I'm not him." He looked up at Greg who was sitting close beside him, and stared into his eyes. "Thank you for finding out, and thank you for telling me. At least now I know."

Greg swallowed and then nodded, not saying anything.

James was overtaken by a feeling of affection for this man who had come to mean everything in his life. He leaned forward and gently pressed his lips against Greg's. He could feel Greg stiffen in surprise and he squeezed his arm. Greg returned the pressure on his lips and then quickly broke away.

The men stared at each other. James could feel his heart beating wildly and he fancied he could hear Greg's doing the same.

James had had sex, many times, since being enslaved. If you could call it having sex when another man, or woman, used your body to fulfil themselves, much as they would use a vibrator, or a dildo. There had been no emotion involved. He'd seen people kissing, around the hospital, and on the glimpses of television he'd caught at Doctor Foreman's apartment, he'd even witnessed an occasional piece of affectionate behaviour between Foreman and Cuddy. He knew there was a difference between how Foreman used his body (and presumably how Cuddy used Greg's although he never talked about it), and what he felt for Greg. He also knew that what they had just done was forbidden for slaves.

"No," Greg said. "We can't." He backed away, shaking his head.

James felt a wave of disappointment at Greg's words. He opened his mouth to protest and then his attention was caught by the signal light flashing on. For a moment he wanted to ignore it, to hell with the consequences, but Greg was already moving, a quick look of relief in his eyes, as if he couldn't wait to escape from here. He bowed his head, of course Greg wouldn't want him - he'd just found out that he had killed someone, why would Greg want to be with him?

As he gathered together Foreman's belongings and took them out to the car he just hoped that Greg would still want to be his friend.

 

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Cuddy gave the final briefing in the morning to the company that was dealing with the hospital's fundraiser. The event was to be held the next night and she wanted everything to go perfectly. Her slave stood silently behind her chair as she ticked off details with Justine, she'd worked with the woman before and found her to be competent. Still, nothing could be left to chance for an occasion as important as this.

"We'll need some private areas on the night," Cuddy said. "Those rooms should be furnished with the usual equipment." She eyed the woman who nodded gracefully.

"Of course, Doctor Cuddy. Please let me know if any of those attending have special needs to be met, we have most items in stock but will need to know if there is anything out of the ordinary." Her eyes flicked to Greg, a slight smile on her face, "will you need any additional slaves or will you be supplying them yourself?"

"Our doctors have gracefully donated the services of eight slaves, and our Chairman is also donating three of his for the night. We'll need a holding room for them to stay when they're not being used. My slave, Greg, will be on hand during the night for running errands and any other tasks I need him to do but he won't be used in that capacity of course." She smiled slightly and the other woman joined her in the joke.

"I think that covers everything," Cuddy stood, gathering up her papers. She handed them off to Greg and saw him catching a glimpse of the list on top with the names of the serving slaves that had been arranged - Jimmy was first on the list. She knew he wouldn't be pleased - well, too bad, it would do Jimmy, and Greg, no harm to remember that he was just an ordinary slave, with no special privileges. Eric still didn't like it but he was resigned to the fact. She just hoped Vogler would show a little restraint, if Jimmy was injured or incapacitated she didn't want to have to deal with both Eric and Greg sulking about it.

"I hope the night is successful for you," Justine said, holding out her hand.

"Oh, I'm sure it will be, we have some very generous donors, and they do appreciate their needs being met."

She returned to her car and drove back to the hospital. When they were nearly there she heard Greg clear his throat.

"Ma'am, Jimmy could help me on the night, he'll be able to get around a lot quicker than I can."

She clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Jimmy's services have already been allocated. I'm sure he will be far too busy to help you."

"You can change that. There are other slaves who can do that."

"That's enough, Gregory. This is none of your business; I don't want to hear another word from you."

She thought he was going to protest again but instead he slumped down in the harness, a scowl on his face. 

 

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Instead of going to the courtyard for their lunch Greg led James up to the sixth floor. Once there he ducked into a fire escape and went up another flight of concrete stairs, and onto the roof. They weren't actually forbidden to be up here - but it wasn't somewhere they were authorized to be either. Making the trip up the stairs wasn't easy for him now, but sometimes he did it just to have a different view for a while. From here they could see all over Princeton. He wanted James to be able to see it.

He sat down on one of the low walls and watched as James stared out over the city, an expression of longing on his face - Greg knew how he felt. He sometimes watched the people down there, freely going about their business and imagined how it would be if he was one of them.

"We shouldn't be here," James said eventually, tearing his eyes away from the view and eyeing the fire door apprehensively. Some cigarette butts around the doorway were testimony to the usual use the roof was put to.

Greg shrugged, there were a lot of things he shouldn't do that he did anyway. James had been quiet all day and he wanted to talk to him after they what had happened the night before. And he wanted to warn him about tomorrow.

James eventually seemed to make up his mind and he came to sit beside Greg, his body language stiff.

"Oh, stop sulking! I didn't say 'no' because of what I found out about you."

"It doesn't matter," James said dully, staring at the ground, "I shouldn't have done that. I should have known you didn't feel the same way."

Greg remembered the sweet taste of James on his lips and the way the kiss had made him feel. He'd never had a kiss like that. Cuddy had never kissed him, nor had anyone else who used him, except for one of her friends in college. She'd been drunk and trying to be edgy he thought, kissing a slave for shit and giggles. There had been a group of them and all the others had laughed and made sounds of disgust as he lay there and the woman kissed him.

James' kiss hadn't been anything like that.

It was all he could do to keep his hands to himself now. If he didn't care for him so much he'd be all over him, slave regulations be damned. He'd never felt about anyone the way he did about James.

"You don't want me, James. Not like that."

James stared at him, mouth opening slightly in astonishment. "Yes, I do, you know I do."

Greg shook his head. "No, you were mindwiped, emptied of everything you knew, and they put back a load of shit in your head. Told you how you had to be a perfect little sex toy, how you had to let people use you. They took away any choice you had, they took away the idea that you should even be able to choose. You can't make choices like that for yourself yet, you think I've been nice to you so you have to do something like that for me." He fiddled with his cane and then twirled it in place, "you don't want someone like me."

James was still gaping at him, those damned soft brown eyes all wide and puzzled. "You think I kissed you because I thought I had to?"

"Not in so many words but you've been brainwashed into -----"

"That's crap!" James stood up, his arms waving around, his expression angry in a way that went straight through Greg. "I kissed you because I wanted to kiss you." He loomed over Greg, his hands going to his hips. "I'm not a child , you don't need to protect me."

But that's exactly what you are , Greg thought, you've been 'awake' for only a little over a year .

"Why would you want to do anything with me, when you don't have to?" Greg asked. "Why would you risk a whole lot of trouble for that?" He gestured to himself, "I've been a slave since I was twelve, I'm not particularly good looking, and I’m not charming, or nice, or fun to be with. Why would you want me?"

"I'm a slave too, and they tell me I am good looking, and cute, and my Master liked fucking me, but I didn't have any choice in that. I have to spend a lot of time with him, and I don't enjoy it, but you - I enjoy spending time with you. You're funny, and smart, and you know so much, and when I'm with you I feel special. I feel like I'm worth something. I think even if we weren't slaves, if we'd met at some bar or something, I'd want to be your friend. And I'd want to kiss you."

They were both standing now, inches apart, and James reached out a hand to touch Greg's sleeve.

"You know the worst about me, but if you want me, I want you."

"I want you," Greg said, the words coming without his conscious control. “But…”

There was the sudden sound of men's voices and they sprung apart, remembering where they were. A group of orderlies had come out onto the roof, cigarettes in hand. They hadn't spotted the slaves yet and Greg gestured to James to follow him. They walked quietly back to the door, almost reaching it before being spotted.

"Hey, you slaves, stop there." One of the group said and they stopped, but didn't go their knees. The man stared at them and then glanced at his friends. "Arrogant slaves, maybe we'd better show them how to kneel."

The other men came around behind them and forced both slaves to their knees before they could do so voluntarily. Greg felt a heavy pair of hands on his shoulders, holding him down. He glanced at James who was kneeling passively but was similarly pinioned.

"Sir, we need to report to Doctor Cuddy, she is expecting us." Greg said, keeping his tone polite but firm. He didn't know this man, but this was a dangerous situation for them. He looked away from James, hoping to draw the men's attention away from him.

"Sure she is, she probably wants a quick one, “the man laughed.

"Hey, that’s Doctor Cuddy's slave - the gimpy one, I've seen him around Mick. That bitch likes to keep him to herself - better let him go. We don't want any trouble." The man holding Greg said, loosening his grip.

“Pretty boy can give me a nice suck first.” Mick unzipped himself and moved over to where James was kneeling. “Open up wide, slave, nice present for you.”

“No, Mick. You can’t – the other one belongs to Doctor Foreman, and I’ve heard he won’t share him out. And he’s fucking Cuddy. You don’t want to lose this job, do you? Let them go.” 

Mick paused with his hand on his dick and then zipped himself back up. “Don’t want a blow from some filthy slave anyway, who knows where that mouth has been.” He glanced at Greg and sneered. Then he shoved James off balance. “Fuck off you two, and don't come up here again."

Greg didn't wait to be told twice; he struggled to his feet and started off down the stairs, feeling a boot brush his ass as he went. James stumbled next to him and he figured he'd received the same treatment.

They didn't stop until the fire door and then Greg looked back up the stairs but the men hadn’t pursued them. 

“James, I…” he stopped, what could he say? That he wanted a relationship with him? That was a fantasy, what had just happened was the reality – it was their reality. He stopped and James looked away. “We’d better get back to work,” Greg said and pushed the door back into the hospital open. Without another word between them they went back to their respective owners. 

It wasn't until later that Greg realised that he hadn't warned James about tomorrow night.


	11. Chapter 11

"Doctor Chase wants to see you, Greg." Cuddy said shortly after they arrived at PPTH the next morning. This wasn't unexpected news. After all, he'd left a signal for Chase that he wanted just such a meeting. He'd made sure that he always had a way to contact Chase, so that Chase could request to see him - because he couldn't just wander down there on his own.

Chase greeted him with a lazy smile as he entered the man's office. Greg shut the door behind him and locked it.

"I haven't got a patient for you, so if you're looking for time out of the laundry you're out of luck." Chase said.

"I need something." Greg quickly outlined what he wanted and Chase looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"You really have got it in for someone. That's nasty stuff." He lounged back in his chair and coolly looked Greg up and down. "Okay, I can get that for you. Usual terms."

Greg hesitated, he'd known what Chase would demand of course, but he'd hoped that he might be able to parley something else for the favour.

"Take it or leave it, Greg. No skin off my nose if you don't get what you want." Chase yawned and spread his legs slightly, pointedly staring at the ground in front of him.

There was no choice. Greg hung his cane over the back of a chair, pulled the blinds around the glass office, and went to his knees in front of Chase.

He knew Chase wasn't short of sex - he was currently seeing some brunette girl in research, and he had casual arrangements with a male lab technician as well. Chase didn't want this for the sex. He wanted this so that he could let Greg know just what he was - what he would always be. Chase didn't mind becoming known for his diagnostic abilities on the back of a slave's work, but he didn't like having to listen to Greg, and to follow Greg's orders. Every chance he had, he made Greg pay for it.

As he got to work, Greg blanked his mind and just thought of the end goal. This was worth it. This was for James.

* * *

Foreman was not pleased. He'd had to dress himself and get ready without help as Jimmy had been collected that afternoon, along with nearly a dozen other slaves owned by hospital staff, by the function organisers. The memo said that it was so they could be groomed and prepared for their part in the entertainment of the night. He frowned into the mirror. Jimmy was already perfectly groomed; he saw to that himself, he would never allow a slave of his to be poorly turned out. Nor did he require elaborate instructions on how he was to conduct himself - the slave was very responsive to orders, Foreman had never had any trouble with him. He hoped that whoever ended up using him tonight - and he suspected Vogler would be one of them - ensured that there would be no harm done. He'd finally agreed that Jimmy could be put on the roster, mostly to please Lisa. He noticed that she hadn't freed Greg for the duty - not that anyone was likely to want a grizzly, middle aged, crippled slave with an attitude problem anyway. With his boyish good looks, and perfect slave manners, he knew Jimmy would be popular.

He drove over to Lisa's place to pick her up and his mood brightened considerably. She looked beautiful, and she gave him a dazzling smile as he openly admired her. Her cleavage was well on display, although he knew that wasn't just for his benefit. Standing quietly behind her, but managing to convey how little he was looking forward to this without even opening his mouth, Greg looked somewhat more presentable than usual in an evening suit.

"You ready for this?" Foreman asked Lisa, referring to not only the event itself, but their being seen officially as a couple for the first time.

"Everybody in the hospital, and in a fifty mile radius, already seems to know we're involved, we might as well make it official." She said briskly, her hand trailing up his arm.

He saw Greg staring at them and frowned at him - pointing his finger at the car. "Get in."

Greg glanced at Lisa for confirmation and then, on receiving her nod, got in the back of the car, doing the slave harness up around himself.

Foreman slammed the door shut so he couldn't hear them.

"You don't think there's going to be trouble at the hospital about our living together?" he asked.

"We may have to go up to HR, so they can be sure I'm not sexually harassing you," Lisa smiled and pulled him closer. "I'm sure we can convince them of that," she reached up towards him and he pulled her into an embrace, gently kissing her. After a few seconds he reluctantly broke it off.

"We need to get going if you want to inspect everything, and I'm sure you do, before the party starts."

Lisa sighed and moved away. "I'd rather stay here with you but schmoozing the donors is all part of the job."

They both got into the car and Foreman spared a quick glance at Greg, making sure he was properly restrained. Satisfied, he started the engine and drove to the venue where the function was being held.

There was still an hour to go before the official start of the party and as soon as he pulled up in the parking lot Lisa was out of the car, going to check that everything had been set up. Foreman followed at a more leisurely pace behind her, admiring the way she instantly took charge. They'd been there a few minutes when a woman came walking quickly up to them, clutching a clipboard to her chest.

"Doctor Cuddy. Sorry to interrupt but I think you should know that one of the slaves that were sent over is sickly."

"Which one?" Lisa asked, all business.

The woman consulted her clipboard. "A male... Jimmy is his name. He was feeling unwell when he was brought here I think, and he's been getting steadily worse. I don't think he'll be able to work tonight. We have him isolated in case it's contagious - the other slaves appear to be fine, we have them all prepped and ready to go."

"Greg, go and fetch Doctor's Foreman's medical bag from his car." Lisa ordered. She turned back to the lady. "We'll have a look at him at see how bad he really is. He might just be having nerves, he's new. He's Eric's slave," she waved her hand towards Foreman.

"He was ill when he got here," the lady reiterated, apparently in case they were thinking of blaming her for one of the slaves taking sick. 

"I'm sure he was." Lisa said, her tone dismissing the woman's defensiveness.

When Greg returned with the bag the woman, Justine it turned out, showed them all to a small room down a corridor. There was no bed, but there was a blanket on the floor and Jimmy was lying on that, stripped naked. There was a bucket next to him, and a bottle of water. Around the wall shelving system held various sorts of supplies.

"It's just a storage room - we didn't have anywhere else to put him away from the other slaves, all the other rooms will be in use." Justine explained. "He dirtied his clothes so it seemed easier to strip him." She pointed to a plastic bag full of clothes in the corner.

Foreman felt a moment of anger at someone else stripping his slave, but dismissed it. Jimmy had also been waxed, quite thoroughly, and his skin had a light sheen of oil on it. They must have already started 'grooming' him before deciding he was too ill to continue. Foreman didn't mind the waxing; he normally had the slave keep himself hairless as it was cleaner so there had only been a light smattering of anyway. At least they hadn't touched the hair on his head.

He took a pair of gloves from his bag and knelt down beside his slave. Jimmy was shivering visibly, sweating and obviously feeling very ill. As Foreman reached for him he paled and turned away to the bucket, bringing up a small amount of water, his eyes filling with tears of distress as he retched. Foreman waited until he was finished and then took up the bottle of water and rinsed off his face. He quickly took Jimmy's temperature, and checked his glands and throat. He asked the slave a few sharp questions and James answered. Foreman stood back up and stripped his gloves off.

"On your knees, Jimmy," he ordered and watched while Jimmy struggled into position, gauging his movement. It didn't take Greg's diagnostic abilities to determine what was wrong with the slave.

"It's just a gastro-intestinal infection, he'll be better in twenty four hours. He's contagious, so he won't be able to be used tonight. I don't think anyone would want him anyway in this condition." He smiled at his own humour. "Can he stay here until the end of the night?”

"Yes, but I can't spare anyone to watch him."

"Not necessary." Foreman said, "He’s not dying. Jimmy, you'll stay here until I come for you later. Use the bucket, and don't make a mess. You'll be cleaning it up if you do. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," the slave said miserably, his body as curled up as it could be while kneeling.

They all exited and Foreman shut the door behind him. Cuddy looked at Greg.

"When your other duties permit, you will go and check on Jimmy - make sure you put gloves on if you need to touch him. Check that his fever doesn't get worse and he isn't dehydrated. Take him another bottle of water when you go, and clear up any mess he's made. This is not an excuse to disappear for most of the night - I'll be needing you." She sighed and turned to Foreman, "Vogler's not going to be happy that Jimmy won't be there tonight."

Eric knew that but he couldn't help but be pleased. No-one could blame the slave, or himself, for Jimmy's illness so he wasn't seeing a downside to Jimmy's stomach bug. It was perfectly timed. He didn't do a very good job of concealing his pleasure - Lisa gave him a knowing look and a light smack on his arm.

They returned to the party, some of the guests were just beginning to arrive and Lisa went into full swing, schmoozing the donors and other guests. Foreman did his bit too and was deep in discussion with one elderly woman - who he suspected was more interested in him than the hospital - when Vogler arrived. As usual the man was attended by his slaves, two of them this time, man and woman, both young, and dressed in a skimpy and provocative fashion. They both had a chain leash attached to theirs collar and Vogler held the other end loosely in his hand. Foreman wondered why he found it necessary to keep his slaves leashed; Jimmy had never shown any inclination to stray from his owner's side when they were out. If a slave was well trained there was no need for restraints.

Foreman excused himself from his current conversation partner and moved over to Lisa's side to offer support. He was quite looking forward to Vogler's reaction on being told that he wouldn't have access to Foreman's slave after all.

Vogler came over to them, his eyes raking over Lisa, and dwelling on her cleavage.

"Doctor Cuddy, you're looking stunning tonight. Doctor Foreman is a lucky man," Vogler glanced at Foreman, managing to convey his amusement at her choice of partner without words. "You are making this... affair... official then? I am concerned that this might lead to complications at the hospital, but I'm sure you've considered all the ramifications."

Foreman wondered for one moment what the ramifications would be if he punched Vogler at the hospital fundraiser. His hand twitched by his side but he restrained himself.

"I'm looking forward to sampling that slave of yours later tonight, Doctor Foreman but duty calls first. I must reassure the donors that their money is being used wisely." 

He went to move off only to be stopped by Cuddy's casual interjection. "Oh, Jimmy - Doctor Foreman's slave - has come down with a bout of gastroenteritis. He is quite unwell, and of course is contagious, so he won't be available for use tonight. We have a roster of several other slaves to fulfil those duties, I'm sure one of those can satisfy your... needs." She allowed herself a little lip curl of amusement.

There was a flash of anger in Vogler's eyes and he glanced at Foreman. Then he relaxed and shrugged.

"Disappointing, I thought your slave would be of better quality than that Doctor Foreman. Ah well, not everyone can afford the best." He glanced at his own slaves, now kneeling behind him. "Perhaps we should do a trade one day, I will lend you this one," he gestured at the male. "Or maybe a female?"

"Jimmy is all I require." Foreman said, holding onto his temper. There was nothing wrong with Jimmy other than a common illness that anyone could have. His slave was at least the quality of Vogler's mindless ones.

"I'm sure Doctor Cuddy keeps you satisfied in that way anyway." Vogler said smoothly. "Well, I must circulate; the donors will want to meet the Chairman of the Board."

When he had moved off Cuddy laid a hand down Foreman's arm. "We'll have to do something about him, sooner rather than later. Asshole."

She looked around for Greg but he had disappeared.

* * *

James looked up from the bucket he was clutching as the door opened. Greg was standing there and despite how ill he was he felt a surge of affection towards the other man. Greg had been in the background when Cuddy, Foreman and the other woman had come in earlier, but of course they hadn't been able to talk. 

"I'm dying," he moaned, hoping for some sympathy. "Make sure I get a good funeral."

Greg quirked a little smile and came into the tiny room, shutting the door behind him.

"'l'll tell Foreman, I'm sure he'll pull out all the stops for you." He wrinkled his nose and made a disgusted expression. "It stinks in here." So much for sympathy.

James looked down, embarrassed. That act made him aware of his nakedness. Nudity wasn't anything new to a slave of course, but Greg hadn't seen him like this before. Not only was he naked, and completely hairless, but there were streaks on his body from his sickness and diarrhoea and he felt filthy.

He felt a hand on his leg and looked up to see Greg staring at him, a peculiar expression on his face. He looked almost... guilty.

"I'll get you cleaned up," Greg muttered, getting up and surveying the boxes of supplies. The room looked like it was a dumping ground for cleaning supplies, amongst other things, and he quickly found some paper towels which he wet and ran over James' skin. Then he dumped the towels into a plastic bag and picked that up, and the bucket. "There's a bathroom down the hall, I'll be back in a minute. Don't puke anywhere while I'm gone."

He came back with a rinsed out bucket and a refilled bottle of water and watched while James drank a good amount of the water.

"I need to get back to her bitchiness before she sends the security goons to look for me," Greg said when he was done. "Just sit tight, you'll be fine by tomorrow. You're not missing anything out there. You know you were going to be one of the main attractions don't you?"

James looked down at his naked, hairless, body and shrugged ruefully. "I figured."

"Lucky you got sick. Vogler is a sick bastard, and he was all over Foreman and Cuddy to have you put on the menu."

Again Greg looked a little discomforted, looking away from him as he talked. James was going to ask him about it when he was overcome with another wave of sickness, bringing up the recently ingested water. When he was finished he waved a feeble hand at Greg.

"Go - I don't want you to get into trouble." He curled up on his side, cradling his aching stomach.

There was a moment of silence and then Greg said quietly, "I'm sorry." James turned his head around but Greg was already gone.

The rest of the fundraiser went to plan, satisfying but exhausting. She'd networked with as many people as she could, flirted with anyone who liked a little of that before parting with their money, and soothed some people who had grievances, real or imagined. Justine had discreetly reported that all was going well in the 'private rooms' and Vogler had been satisfyingly scarce for most of the night.

Now the guests were going home and the clean-up crew were beginning to move in. Greg was usefully occupied with picking up empty glasses and returning them to the bar - he'd disappeared occasionally throughout the night but only for a few minutes at a time. She hadn't enquired as to how Jimmy was, but as Greg hadn't raised any alarms, and didn't look distressed, she assumed he must still be breathing at least.

At least Jimmy's illness had put Eric in a good mood. He had tolerated her flirting in the name of business and otherwise been there in support all night. As she watched he helped an older couple fetch their coats and make their unsteady way out to the parking lot. By the time he returned the room had cleared of guests and Justine came up to her.

"The private rooms are still in use, when your guests are finished with them we'll take the slaves back to the hospital for you."

Cuddy nodded. She'd already arranged for them to have a spare office there to sleep in for tonight - they'd be fine until their owners picked them up in the morning. A junior staff doctor would look in on them to make sure there were no health problems.

"Do you want the sick one to go with them?"

"No." She looked at Greg. "Greg, go and get Jimmy, bring him here."

Greg immediately put down the glass he was carrying and hurried off.

"We'll take him back with us. He should be over the worst of it by now."

When Greg reappeared he was walking slowly besides Jimmy, who was dressed in his stained and smelly clothes. He still looked pale and unwell but at least he was walking.

At the car Foreman ordered Jimmy out of his clothing and then gave him an old blanket he carried for emergencies in the trunk. The slave could wash both clothes and blanket when they got home - he wasn't having him in his car in those clothes. He admonished him sternly against being sick in the car, to which Jimmy nodded miserably.

Foreman drove Lisa back to her house and she smiled at him when they arrived, putting her hand on his knee.

"Coming in?"

He glanced in the back seat where Jimmy was huddled in the harness and she shrugged. "He can stay with Greg tonight, he's already been exposed anyway and Greg has his own bathroom in there - he can keep an eye on Jimmy during the night. I think we both deserve some relaxation after that event, don't you?"

Foreman switched the engine off, if Lisa wanted him staying the night he wasn't going to say no.

* * *

Greg put the clothes and blanket in the wash while James rested. He'd seen to Cuddy and Foreman's every desire, after which the pair had retired upstairs and told Greg he could go to his room after cleaning up. He'd done a cursory clean up and decided to put the clothes in to do overnight. James had no other clothes with him and he'd need something for tomorrow, if he was staying the night.

When he went to his room James was lying on a blanket on the small amount of floor space there was in the room. He was dressed in some old shorts Greg had lent him. It looked like he'd had a shower and cleaned up some, and it seemed like he might survive the night. Greg had taken a bottle of water and a couple of crackers from the kitchen and he sat on the bed and watched while James nibbled on them.

"You gave me something didn't you?" James asked him and Greg looked pointedly at the drink and food in his hands.

"Yes, I gave you water and crackers."

"Don't play games. You gave me something to make me sick." He stared off into space. "The grape soda you got for me in the morning, it was already open. You said it was from a patient's room."

Greg thought about denying it but then shrugged.

"Yes. I made you sick, but it was in a good cause."

"I've been throwing up and shitting all day! I feel like hell." James said. "And you did that to me? Why? So I wouldn't be part of the 'entertainment'? It's not like I haven't had sex before. They use to line up at the Training Facility to get their share."

Inwardly Greg winced at James' words. He didn't want to think of James going through that - although he knew it was a basic part of a slave's training. He shook his head.

"Vogler wanted you - I heard him tell Cuddy. He doesn't just 'use' slaves. He fucks them up for good. He's careful; he doesn't leave marks - on the outside anyway. His slaves are all terrified of him. The slave clinic at the hospital has treated a few of them. A little bit of puking is nothing compared to spending an hour or so with Vogler. You should thank me."

James put down his cracker, only half eaten, and made a face.

"What was all that about giving me a choice then? You didn't ask me, you didn't tell me what you were doing. You just did what you wanted with me, just like... "

"I'm not like them! I wanted to protect you, you moron!"

"Yeah, well maybe I don't need your protection!"

"Like hell, you don't."

They glared at each other and then James sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Look, I know you meant well. But you doing that to me... Back at the Facility they used to drug us a lot. I don't know why. But I'd wake up, and I would be in a different place, or wearing different clothes. Sometimes there would be marks on my body that hadn't been there before. I think they had sex with me while I was asleep."

"It's a disorientation thing," Greg said quietly. James look at him, puzzled and Greg explained. "I've read some journal articles about the process they use for slave training adults The drugging, and doing things to you while you're out - they're all techniques to make you unsure about everything, to realise you have no control over anything. Your body doesn't belong to you." He looked down at the floor. He hadn't connected those articles to what he was doing to James. James was right - he had no business making decisions for him, he could have given him the option.

"Greg?" James said, a question in his voice.

Greg looked back at the younger man sitting up on the blanket and sighed.

"Get up here, you're not contagious you know."

James looked like he might continue to protest but then stood up and sat on the edge of the bed.

"I don't want to study tonight," he said.

"No shit, Sherlock. Just lie down - let's get some sleep before their Highnesses need their feet warmed or something. It'll be morning soon."

They lay down on the bed, on their sides so they fit. Greg was pressed up against James' back. To make room for them both he put his arm across both their bodies, with his other hand he flicked the light switch, leaving them in darkness. 

They lay together quietly in the dark, the last sound Greg heard before he fell asleep was the steady sound of James breathing.


	12. Chapter 12

Foreman took a long sip of his coffee and looked at Jimmy, who was quietly kneeling by his bedside, his morning duty completed.

It was a Saturday, a week after the Fundraiser. Jimmy had long since recovered from his inconvenient illness and Foreman had news for him.

"After my shower, and breakfast, you will pack some of my clothes into a suitcase, and my toiletries, and some other necessities."

"Yes, sir," the slave replied, knowing better than to ask for details but Foreman decided to grant them anyway.

"Once I am packed I will be going to Doctor Cuddy's house - I will be keeping this apartment for now, but spending most of my time there."

"We're going to live with Doctor Cuddy?" Jimmy asked, apparently excited enough to break his training. Foreman frowned at him.

" _I_ am going to live with Doctor Cuddy," Foreman told him sternly. "I will be taking a few of my belongings with me, so that I will be more comfortable. You will be one of them."

"Yes, sir," Jimmy answered, suitably chastened.

"You will keep the same routine and discipline at Doctor Cuddy's house as you do here - subject to any change that either of us deem necessary for the smooth running of the household. I will not tolerate you embarrassing me in front of Doctor Cuddy. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"I will discipline you for any infringements, as I do here." Foreman frowned, it would probably be best if he took the time to drive that lesson home. "Kneel up, push your pants down and bend over the bed."

When his slave was positioned he picked up a paddle he kept handy by the bed and gave him four quick swats to his ass for speaking out of turn. Not much, just a little reminder not to get above himself. Greg was nowhere near as well trained as Jimmy - he didn't want Jimmy copying his bad example once they were living at Lisa's.

"While I am showering you can begin by packing that paddle, the crop and the cane. Make sure they are all clean first."

"Yes, sir," his slave answered crisply, his head bowed, and Foreman smiled. A firm hand, that was all slaves needed.

* * *

James packed everything up as Foreman watched him closely. He was bubbling with excitement although he was trying to hide it. His butt was a little sore where he'd been paddled but he didn't mind that little pain now that he knew that one of his idle daydreams was going to come true. He'd be able to share Greg's little room with him, and spend most nights with him.

He'd forgiven Greg for making him sick on the night of the Fundraiser; after all Greg had meant well. James still didn't think that Vogler would have been all that bad - James had had some pretty rough treatment at the training facility but had survived okay. But Greg had thought he was looking out for him, as he had since James arrived here, and that made James feel... good. A little sickness wasn't a big deal in hindsight, and he didn't think Greg would ever do that again.

He hadn't seen Greg since last Sunday morning, when he had spent the night with Greg's arm around him, curled up in the narrow bunk together. He'd hardly slept that night, but it had been one of his best nights since he'd been a slave. In the morning they'd prepared breakfast and cleaned Cuddy's house together, sharing the chores made them seem much less onerous, and he'd been able to do all the heavy lifting and going up and down the stairs for Greg.

Sunday evening, when James was beginning to think they'd be spending another night together, Cuddy had received a call that her mother was ill and she'd taken a few days off to go and see her, leaving within an hour of the call. From the faces Greg pulled when neither Foreman or Cuddy were looking at him James gathered that Greg wasn't looking forward to the visit. Cuddy also looked like she was about to embark on some unpleasant duty rather than a visit to her mother. James felt a pang of regret that he’d never remember his own mother, or the rest of his family, although maybe it was better that way. He couldn’t miss them if he didn’t remember them. 

It had been a long week. He knew Doctor Foreman had received regular calls from Doctor Cuddy but of course he had had no way of contacting Greg, he was looking forward to seeing him again today - now they would be living together there would be an opportunity to take things further with him. After their conversation on the roof, before the fundraiser, he believed that Greg was as interested in him as he was in Greg, and Greg doping him to 'protect' him reinforced that. It wasn't like they had time to waste. At any time they could be parted, never to be reunited - they had so little control over their own lives. This week had proven that. He wanted to spend every minute he could with Greg, and not just studying either.

"Careful with that suit," a sharp voice interrupted his musings and he looked down at the expensive suit in his hands, he was stuffing it into a suit pack and it was getting creased. Quickly he smoothed it out and attended to it with more care, he didn't want another paddling, or anything that would delay them going to Doctor Cuddy’s.

* * *

Doctor Cuddy was obviously expecting them; she greeted Foreman very warmly and with a long embrace. James knelt on the doorstep until he was summoned into the house, and told to take Foreman's belongings up to Cuddy's bedroom. He did so, glancing around for Greg but he was nowhere to be seen. His heart was pounding when he returned to the ground floor, and not from the exertion of taking Foreman's bags up. What if Greg had been left behind with Cuddy's mother? Greg had said he was bought by her parents initially.

He wanted to ask Doctor Cuddy, but of course he couldn't. Instead he was sent to the kitchen to prepare lunch. He was nearly finished when he heard the familiar limping footsteps.

"Making yourself at home?" Greg asked, his voice quiet, but James could hear the smug pleasure in his voice.

He came across to stand next to James, one hand sneaking out to grab a piece of meat and stuff it in his mouth.

"They're out in the garden," he said as James looked around. "We're supposed to take lunch out to them so they don't have to stir themselves."

"What were you doing? I thought you were... I thought maybe you had been left behind with Cuddy's mother."

Greg shuddered. "That woman is a bitch and a half. She makes Cuddy look good. I almost felt sorry for her. Good thing she didn't take Foreman with her, that really would have been fun. No, Chase has a case that is defeating his feeble brain. I've been going over the test results and then I was on the phone to him telling him what to do."

He grabbed a knife and started to cut the sandwiches and James stared at his bare forearm, there were four red welts across it. Greg followed his gaze and shrugged.

“Arlene has a crop, and she doesn't mind giving a little touch up to a slave if she's in a mood. You have to move quickly around her. The only good thing is that she and Cuddy hate each other's guts so she never comes to see her. The Dad wasn't too bad, but he died a few years ago. I think Arlene bit his head off after they had sex one day."

James looked around again to make sure they weren't being observed and then grinned; he'd missed Greg this week.

"We're moving in," he told Greg - letting his excitement show after subduing it all day. "I'll be able to be with you every night."

Greg stared at him, and then shook his head.

"No, I’m sorry, James. Cuddy has had me preparing the smallest bedroom on the first floor for you. You'll be sleeping there. I overheard her talking to Foreman - he doesn't want us spending too much more time together. He sure as hell doesn't want us sharing a bedroom."

* * *

James' first day in his new home didn't end like it had in all his fantasies about such a thing occurring. He'd spent the evening cleaning while Greg was ensconced in his room - he was still working on the case he’d been consulting with Doctor Chase on earlier. Doctor Cuddy had said to Foreman that 'now that Jimmy is here he can do some of the more mundane tasks so Greg can concentrate on his cases, and on his papers and research'. She'd given James a list of things that needed doing around the house, things that Greg wasn't easily able to do due to his disability, and told him to work on them whenever he wasn't attending to Foreman or herself. He was to present Foreman with a report on his progress every day. James knew that Foreman would expect the work done quickly, and the hard stare the man gave him while Doctor Cuddy was giving him his orders conveyed the message that James had better not let him down.

Cuddy and Foreman had retreated to their bedroom half way through the evening and left him working downstairs. He'd been able to stop in and see Greg for a few minutes but he’d been greeted only by a distracted mumble as Greg leafed through his journals and books, scribbling on pieces of paper as he went. James had seen Greg like this before, and knew not to take it personally but he went away disappointed – feeling shut off from Greg in more than one way.

He'd been instructed that he must be in his room by ten, unless he was required by his master, or by Doctor Cuddy. He then wasn't to leave it unless summoned except for a bathroom visit if necessary; there was a small bathroom on the first floor next to his bedroom that he was permitted to use.

At ten minutes to ten he went to Greg’s room, after casting an anxious eye up the staircase to make sure he wasn’t being observed. Greg was sitting on the floor of the small room, bouncing a ball against one wall.

“Why would you conceal the fact that you’d had a cold two weeks ago?” Greg asked him without any preamble.

“I didn’t have a cold,” James said automatically. Greg made an impatient sound.

“If you were my patient why would you do that?”

“Um… “James tried to think of something. “I was worried I might get into trouble?”

“Patient isn’t a _slave_. She isn’t going to get into trouble for having a cold. Think again.”

“How did I get the cold?”

“Why does that matter? It’s a cold; you could have picked it up anywhere. Unless…" Greg stared off into the distance, catching the ball and holding it. “We’ve been looking at the wrong person.” He stood up and limped past James without another word.

James followed him, bemused. He wasn’t sure what he had said, but Greg had the answer to his puzzle. He followed Greg as he struggled up to the first floor and then watched horrified as he went and pounded on the door to Cuddy’s - to Cuddy and _Foreman’s_ \- bedroom.

The door opened and Cuddy stood there, wrapped in a gown, Foreman was behind her, dressed only in boxers. Neither of them looked amused and James held his breath, fearing for Greg.

“I need to go to the hospital,” Greg said, not caring that he’d just committed a gross breach of slave etiquette. “Get Chase to meet me there.”

Cuddy studied him and then nodded. “Go downstairs and wait by the door. I’ll have the slave transport service send a car for you.”

“You could drive me.”

“Not tonight I couldn’t.”

“But –“

“That’s enough, Gregory. I will tell the service it’s an emergency. Now go downstairs and wait. I’ll contact Doctor Chase.”

James watched as Greg stomped off down the stairs.

“I’ll go and make the call, they are usually pretty quick,” Cuddy said to Foreman. “He needs to be cuffed before they’ll take him, can you go and do it for me? His cuffs are in the cabinet by the door. Just the wrists, they’ve agreed that he doesn’t need leg irons. Oh, they require a hood as well – that’s in there too.”

Foreman nodded and then turned his attention on James who was still standing outside their door. “Jimmy, it’s after ten. I believe I gave you orders earlier. Go to your room.” James felt a flare of resentment. He damped it down and obediently retreated to his room.

His room had a single bed, made up with cheap sheets, a blanket and a pillow. There was a small wardrobe where he'd hung his few clothes earlier. A book lay on his bed and he went over to it, that hadn't been there before. It proved to be a home maintenance, do-it-yourself type manual. The section on repairing roofs had a bookmark in it and a slip of paper with an instruction to study it. On his list of tasks was some work on the roof.

So now he knew his place in the household, as if he hadn't already. Greg was an amateur Doctor; he was to make himself into a home handyman.

He sat down on the bed, idly leafing through the book. He wanted to be a doctor, he was a doctor, dammit - not a slave who did repairs on the side. 

He knew he should be happy. He had a room and a proper bed, instead of a blanket on the floor by the washing machine. He was in the same house as Greg and he would see him both at night and during the day at work. They would work something out, some way that they could spend time together without being caught. He couldn't bear to be under the same roof as him and not be with him.

His room was at the front of his house with a window overlooking the street. He heard a vehicle draw up outside and went over to the window. Two men walked up to the front door, and then walked back with Greg between them. His hands were cuffed behind his back, his head was covered by a hood and the men had hold of his elbows on either side, half supporting him, half guarding him.

They went to a van and opened the back door, man handling Greg into the cargo section and then slamming the door shut behind them. James watched as they drove down the street and out of sight.

He looked out the window for a long time and then turned away and sat on the bed. He looked at the book on home repairs and tossed it aside. Going over to the wardrobe he pulled out a pair of his shoes. Screwed into a ball and concealed in the toes were some sheets of paper, notes he had made from one of Greg's books. He settled back onto the bed to study them.

* * *

Greg lay in the back of the van, on his side, his heart pounding. The hood they made him wear when they transported him was thick, he couldn't hear anything but a vague hum from the outside world, and he couldn't see anything but blackness. His wrists were cuffed tightly behind his back, Foreman had been rough when he'd put them on; annoyed at Greg for the interruption, Greg hoped he had blue balls. Foreman had made him kneel next to the front door until the van came and now his leg was killing him; lying on the cold metal floor of the van wasn't helping anything.

He hated being confined like this, unable to move his arms. The hood made him feel trapped, claustrophobic. The only good thing was that he knew the answer, he'd solved the puzzle. He knew what was killing his patient.

The van went around a bend in the road and he rolled, which forced some of his body weight over onto his right side, and pressed his thigh into the floor. He arched his back as a spike of pain went through him and he let out a moan - knowing that there was no-one to hear, or care.

When the van came to a stop he felt a rush of cold air as the back doors were opened and then rough hands hauled him out of it, setting him on his feet. No cane, and no hands to hold onto his thigh as he walked, meant that they had to virtually drag him into the hospital, still hooded and bound. He heard a murmur of voices and then his hands were removed from the cuffs, roughly, the metal biting again at his skin. The hood was dragged over his head and he blinked at the sudden rush of light and sound. He was standing in the hospital lobby, Chase stood in front of him, his displeasure at being called back in the middle of the night obvious in his stance.

"Have you got his cane? He's useless without it," Chase asked and Greg realised he was talking to the transport driver.

The cane was handed over and Greg gratefully got it underneath him. His leg was still trembling and doing its best to reach a ten on the pain scale as soon as possible but at least the cane offered some support.

"This had better be good," Chase grumbled as they made their slow way across the almost deserted hospital lobby. Chase held the cuffs and hood loosely in one hand. The lone security guard at his station looked at them curiously but didn't say anything.

"Does she have a slave?"

"Who?"

"Your patient, remember her? Dying, ring any bells?"

"Yes, she also has a car and a set of golf clubs. So what?"

"I doubt she's fucking the golf clubs. Of course she might be, some people like that." Greg stopped in front of the elevator and pressed the button with his cane. "When I asked you about her family, where she'd been and people she'd been in contact with why didn't you mention the slave?"

As they entered the elevator Chase shrugged. "He's just a slave, what would he have to do with anything? She's seventy four and married, he looks about twenty, I doubt she's fucking either him or the golf clubs."

"She's picked up an Egyptian parasite, which has set off a cerebellar schistosomiasis delayed hypersensitivity allergy. Unpleasant but curable. She'll live to fuck another day. "

"Except for the fact that she's never been to Egypt, or anywhere in the Middle East. That's a real long-shot Greg."

"But I bet her slave is one of those exotic foreign ones that some people like to own, rather than the good old home-grown USA type. Or if he's not, he was owned by someone who travelled to Egypt. Either way, Grandma's been doing the nasty with him. He gave her this, just like he gave her that cold she didn't bother to tell us about."

They'd reached diagnostics and Greg sank down gratefully into Chase's Eames recliner.

"Go on, it's not like I can go and have a chat with her. You'll have to find out just what she's been getting up to with the slave. Use your charm. When she confesses all you can start the treatment. I’d suggest you hold off on going there yourself until she’s clean."

Chase stared at him for a moment longer and then shook his head. "You’re wrong, it can’t be that."

Greg didn't bother answering, all the symptoms added up - this is what it had to be. His closed his eyes and after a few seconds he heard the office door open and close.

Once Chase was gone he opened his eyes again, he figured he had a good hour before Chase returned with confirmation of the diagnosis. Being here alone was too good an opportunity to waste.

* * *

Foreman woke the next morning to the pleasing sight of Lisa Cuddy curled up against him, her hair tickling his chest, she was half awake and he gave her a gentle kiss. It was Sunday so they didn't need to go to the hospital. Except that Lisa would probably want to collect Greg, she had decided not to send the slave transport to pick him up last night when Chase had called to report that the case was solved. She had instructed Chase that he was to be sent to the cells and kept there until she came in.

Foreman had approved of that, he understood that Lisa made allowances for Greg due to his medical abilities but the behaviour he had exhibited last night was unacceptable. Greg should have been disciplined on the spot.

He heard a tentative knock on the door.

"I have your coffee, sir." Jimmy's quiet voice came. Foreman glanced at the clock. Eight o'clock - Jimmy was following their usual weekend routine, bringing him coffee in bed. Jimmy should have been up at his usual weekend time, five o'clock, and already done his morning exercise and started on his chores. Foreman would check later - he had no intention of letting the slave slack off simply because they were living here rather than Foreman's apartment.

He gave permission for Jimmy to enter and watched as the slave approached the bed. He'd had enough wit to bring a coffee for Lisa too, that was good. She put on her robe and sat up, accepting the coffee. Jimmy then came and placed Foreman's on the nightstand and sunk to his knees besides the bed, his eyes intent on Foreman, his mouth open a little.

Foreman had a moment of puzzlement and then a horrified realisation as he realised what Jimmy was waiting for. The slave normally gave him a blow job in the morning, a casual routine that Foreman gave as much thought to as he did to cleaning his teeth.

"Sir, would you like me to..." Jimmy's voice trailed off as Foreman glared at him and a look of confusion crossed the slave's face. Foreman glanced at Lisa; she had obviously caught on to their routine and was barely concealing her amusement.

"Oh, go ahead Eric, don't let me stop you."

He gritted his teeth. "That won't be necessary." He looked down at Jimmy. "Go and get on with breakfast. Call us when it is ready."

The slave looked at him with wide innocent eyes and then rose gracefully and retreated, his head bowed. Foreman wondered, just for a moment, if Jimmy had done that deliberately - surely he couldn't be that stupid - but then dismissed the thought. A good slave did what they were told and nothing else.

He hadn't told Jimmy that the morning schedule would need to be altered, just a little.


	13. Chapter 13

Greg made his way down to diagnostics eagerly. It had only been three days since his successful diagnosis of the old woman with schistosomiasis, and a taste for young male slaves, but he was already bored and had been pleased when Chase had requested he come down for a consult. Chase had been pissed with him after the last case, both for being right, and for the fact that the patient had put in a complaint against him. The old bat had taken offence at Chase suggesting that she would sully herself with a slave and had complained to Cuddy about his 'attitude'.

Greg had been present in Cuddy's office when she'd called Chase in to discuss the matter. Chase had tried to implicate Greg in some way but Cuddy had pointed out that Greg hadn't even seen the patient. Greg thought it was probably just as well, for both the patients and himself, that he didn't have any patient contact.

The night in the cells had been less than fun. He'd asked Chase for some Vicodin, or anything, to try and stop the roaring pain in his leg, but of course Chase had refused, or more accurately had refused to give them without a price Greg was willing to pay. Greg had found a couple of Tylenol in the diagnostics office when Chase had left him there unattended and they'd helped a little but it had still been an uncomfortable night.

Cuddy hadn't bothered to come fetch him until Sunday afternoon and she'd come alone. He'd received a lecture for the 'rude' way he'd banged on her door and talked to her on Saturday night and she'd made him apologise before receiving his painkillers. Not a word about the solved case. Cuddy knew that doing those cases was the only thing that kept him going, the only thing he lived for.

Well, they had been the only thing he had, before James had come into his life. The time he'd spent with James, whether it was teaching him, or just talking to him, was the best time he'd had since he became a slave, maybe even before then. Even as a child he'd never had a friend like James.

He'd been twelve when he'd been enslaved, he had no idea what being in love was supposed to feel like. But he thought it might feel something like what he felt for James. The week they had spent apart while Cuddy was at her mother's had felt like an eternity, and when they returned and Cuddy had given him orders to prepare a room for James; well he hadn't even minded that much that James wouldn't be sharing his room, that had always been too much to hope for.

Things hadn't changed that much for them, Foreman was there every night, instead of just most nights, and Greg and James still prepared food together, and did all the work so that their 'masters' didn't have to lift a finger for themselves. They'd lost the time in the evenings they used to spend together in Greg's little room; James was usually set to working somewhere around the house or the yard in the evening while Greg did research or wrote papers. But they stole some time here and there, moments when Foreman and Cuddy were otherwise occupied and James would come into Greg's room and chat for a few minutes.

At least he knew that James was safe, and not sleeping on a hard concrete floor, and best of all, that Foreman wasn't fucking him anymore. James had been very pleased with himself when he related the tale of how he'd gone into Cuddy's bedroom the first morning and offered Foreman a blow job. Foreman had later instructed him in no uncertain terms that that part of their morning routine was now removed.

He arrived at Diagnostics and entered without knocking. Chase was sitting behind the desk, and another doctor was opposite him. Doctor Holling - the man who James has, quite literally, run into in a hospital corridor. The man who knew who James had once been.

"Greg, come in. Doctor Holling would like a consult," Chase said, with the usual smirk on his face. "I'm just going to the bathroom." He got up, chucked a file on the desk, ostentatiously pulled the blinds and left.

Greg looked at Holling warily, it was obvious that the consult was a cover for something, and it was a fair bet this was about James - he wondered what Holling would demand to keep his mouth shut.

"Ah... Greg, I'm sorry to have you called under false pretences, but I didn't know how to see you alone otherwise."

Holling appeared nervous, his eyes first riveting themselves to Greg's collar and then flitting away. A man uncomfortable around slaves. Greg took Chase's seat, taking a note of the surprised look on Holling's face. Well, let him be surprised. Holling wanted to see him. He needed something; he wasn't going to do anything about Greg sitting in a free person's chair.

"Why did you want to see me at all?" Greg asked when Holling didn't say anything else.

"You were with Wilson when I ran into him that day; I saw you. I asked around, and found out who you belong to. Doctor Cuddy is with Eric Foreman; the rumour is that they've moved in together. You would see a lot of Wilson."

Greg said nothing, just kept staring at the man.

"I couldn't find a way to see Wilson by himself, but I heard that sometimes you help Doctor Chase with cases, so I approached him." Holling fiddled with a pen on the desk.

"I don't know how long I've got - so why don't we cut to the chase? What do you want?" Greg asked.

"Is he okay?"

Greg blinked. That wasn't what he was expecting.

Holling shifted again, and looked embarrassed.

"I mean... I know he can't be... after I saw him I searched on the 'net and tried to find out what happened. I couldn't believe that he was convicted of murder... and then mind-wiped. Not Wilson. Wilson was the sort of man who was always helping people, taking care of them if they were in trouble. He was there for me, when we were interns together – he understood just what I was going through. If I'd heard about his trial at the time I would have gone there, despite what happened between us." He shook his head. "Anyway. I just wanted to know that he's okay."

"He's a slave," Greg said flatly. How did this idiot _think_ James was? He'd been convicted of murder, mind-wiped, spent months in a slave training facility and then been sold to that pompous asshole Foreman. He was facing a life of being the possession of another person. Greg knew what that felt like. There was no way that Holling could ever comprehend it.

"I know," Holling replied, not looking at Greg." He stood up abruptly. "I'm sorry, this was a mistake. Wilson won't even remember me." He pushed the file towards Greg. "In case you get asked, this was the case you were called to consult on."

Greg flipped it open and quickly read it. The diagnosis was obvious. "Lupus. Boring." He threw the folder back onto the desk, ignoring Holling's astonished look.

"You can't tell anyone you knew him from before he was mind-wiped. He'll be sent away." He didn't think Holling intended to, but it didn't hurt to be sure. Free people often didn't realise how much power they had. All it would take was a careless word.

"I won't," Holling said.

"Good." Greg turned to leave. Holling put out a hand, barely brushing his sleeve.

"If he ever needs anything, if I can help... I think you can figure out a way to contact me."

Greg stared at him, Holling looked awkward but sincere. He and James must have been good friends at one time. _Very_ good friends perhaps. Finally he nodded and then left without another word. He passed Chase in the corridor, where he was lingering by the vending machine, but didn't stop.

When he returned to Cuddy's office Foreman and James were there. Greg glanced at James who was kneeling quietly by Foreman's chair and James eyes briefly met his, there was a smile in them, a happiness to see Greg that Greg could scarcely believe. 

Cuddy looked up from the computer screen she was perusing.

"Greg. A new case?"

"No, it was just lupus."

"Chase called you for lupus?" Cuddy looked at him skeptically.

"It was an unusual presentation. He just wanted a second opinion."

Greg went to stand in his normal position behind Cuddy's chair as she turned her attention back to the computer, where a budget spreadsheet was displayed. He glanced again at James. Maybe he should have tried to get something out of Holling while he had the chance, but at least he knew now that there was someone he could contact if he ever needed help for James.

* * *

"They're watching a movie in the bedroom," James reported as he slipped into Greg's little room later that night. He kept the door open so he could hear any sounds of someone approaching. "We have half an hour before I'm supposed to go back to my room." It was the first evening this opportunity had presented itself since Saturday. Cuddy and Foreman had been working hard in the evenings for the last few days and there’d been no chance for them to spend private time together.

Greg looked up from the bed where he was lying, journal in one hand, notepad in another. He was wearing a pair of glasses, that he used for reading, and James liked the way they looked on him. Greg peered at him from over the top of the lenses.

"I have to provide Cuddy with a report on this article, some heart guy she's thinking of trying to lure to the hospital. He's an idiot."

"You think everybody is an idiot."

Greg looked him up and down, his expression intent, a hint of a smile on his face. "Not, everybody."

Despite himself James felt a warm blush of affection at Greg's approval. He knew that there was a broad smile on his own face. He came further into the room, and went to Greg's side.

"We never finished what we started." He sat down on the side of the bed and took one of Greg's hands in his own. Then he leaned in and found Greg's lips with his own, capturing them in a kiss. Greg hesitated and then closed his eyes and returned the kiss, his fingers curling around James' where they lay on his hand. James slipped his other hand behind Greg's back and pulled him closer.

James couldn't remember ever doing this before but as he kissed Greg it felt right. Better than that it felt like nothing he'd experienced since he'd been reborn as a slave. This was something he was doing because he chose it, not because he was forced.

He drank in the taste of Greg, the way he felt beneath his hands, the warmth of his body where it was pressed against his own. He relished the feeling that swept through him, the surge of affection for this man he'd known only a short while, but who meant more to him than he could ever say.

After a long while they broke apart, both instinctively glancing at the doorway. There was no sign of either Cuddy or Foreman and the house was quiet. 

"You should go," Greg said, his voice hoarse. "Before they finish their movie. It's too dangerous for you to come here like this."

"It's dangerous for you, too,” James pointed out. He didn't want to leave, ever.

Greg shook his head. "I have more protection than you. Cuddy needs me - she needs what I can do for her. All the time I'm useful to her she's not going to do too much to me."

"She's had you whipped, many times," he'd seen the scars on Greg's back. He was covered in old lash marks. "She'd do it again."

Greg shrugged. "That doesn't matter. But you've never been whipped, and Foreman wouldn't hesitate to get rid of you if he's displeased with you. If they catch us together like this they'd probably decide that one of us needs to go - and it won't be me."

James shuddered at the thought of being separated from Greg and moved back closer to him, slipping a hand under Greg's t-shirt, and caressing the skin there. His lips found Greg's again and this time Greg didn't hesitate to return the kiss. James slipped his hand lower and rubbed against Greg's groin, feeling how hard he was, the heat there matched by the heat in James'.

They broke apart again and James ran his hands through his hair as he tried to dampen his passion down. There wasn't time for this now. He needed to go back upstairs, to his own room and his lonely bed.

"I have to go," he whispered, his eyes drinking in the sight of Greg sitting on the bunk, his face dark with desire, his lips flushed from James' kiss. He wondered if he looked the same, from the hungry expression on Greg's face he did. "I have to go, now."

"Don't", Greg said, all his wariness from a few minutes ago gone out the window. His hand reached out to James. "Please, I need... “There was a lifetime of loneliness in his voice, a pain that almost broke James' heart. He leaned forward again, kissing Greg gently on the cheek and resting his head against his. He felt a hot tear on his face, and didn't know if it came from himself or from Greg.

"It's past ten, I have to go," he repeated and tore himself away. Greg didn't try and stop him again; instead he just sat on the bed, his head down, staring at the ground. 

"Greg..." James wanted nothing more than to stay, to hell with the consequences. He wanted to lie down with Greg on the narrow bed and hold him through the night. He took a step back towards him and Greg looked up at him, shaking his head.

"No, go," Greg said hoarsely. "Before you turn into a pumpkin."

James didn't get the reference but it didn't matter. He turned and left, hurrying down the hallway to the staircase that led upstairs. He took a moment at the foot of the stairs to compose himself. He was still partly aroused, and his skin felt flushed, his breathing heavy. He took a deep breath and went up the stairs as quietly as he could.

He made it as far as the bathroom where he quickly washed his face and then turned to leave.

Foreman was standing there. James stared at him, frozen, and Foreman looked pointedly at the ground, his hand making a flicking gesture which James knew well from hours of training. He knelt at Foreman's feet, his head bowed.

"It's twenty minutes past ten. You have orders to be in your room by ten o'clock. Why are you late?"

"Sir, I was finishing cleaning the kitchen cabinets, they weren't quite done and I didn't want to leave them." It was the last task he'd done before going to Greg, they were spotless, he knew that.

"Look at me."

James took a deep breath and composed his expression as best he could. He hadn't put the bathroom light on and he hoped Foreman couldn't see him well enough to tell what he had been doing. He looked up.

"I will inspect the cabinets in the morning, I hope for your sake that you used the extra time well. For tonight, as you decided not to use the bedroom Doctor Cuddy has generously provided for you at the correct time you will not use it at all. You will sleep outside the door. Do you understand, Jimmy?"

"Yes, sir."

"Go there now."

Foreman hadn't given him the signal to rise so James quickly crawled past his feet and went to the bedroom door. At another signal from Foreman he knelt again, his head bowed. Without another word Foreman returned to his own room and closed the door firmly behind him leaving James outside his closed bedroom door.

James breathed a sigh of relief, Foreman hadn't noticed anything but the obvious - that James was late getting to bed. He lay down on the floor outside the door. He didn't relish the idea of sleeping out here without even a blanket but it was better than the much worse punishment that would have befallen him if Foreman had realised what he'd been doing.

His hand went down to brush his genitals but Foreman's presence had robbed him of the last of his arousal and it would be unwise to attempt to recapture it out here. He could still feel Greg on his lips and he embraced the memories of those few minutes together warmly as he fell asleep.


	14. Chapter 14

Cuddy settled back against the pillows and smiled at Foreman as he returned to bed.

"Problem?"

He frowned and settled down beside her again. "Jimmy was late going to bed, said he was cleaning the kitchen cabinets and wanted to get it finished."

"The nerve of him," Cuddy said, amused at Foreman's serious demeanour. "I hope you whipped him for it."

"I've never had to whip Jimmy," Foreman pointed out, and she could hear the unspoken corollary, _'not like you've had to whip Greg'_. "He's usually very well behaved."

She sighed to herself. Much as she loved Eric he was still a typical man, he seemed to think that because Jimmy was his possession his behaviour was some sort of reflection on him. She'd seen this before, men parading their slaves around like status symbols. The better the slave looked and behaved the better the man believed they looked. To her Greg was a tool, useful, but not a reflection of her own worth - her slave being scruffy, lame and sullen didn't make her less competent.

"Jimmy _is_ well behaved, Eric, and he's a hard worker. I'm sure those cabinets are spotless." She was also sure that Eric would be giving them a close inspection in the morning, and looking for any reason he could find to punish Jimmy.

"You discipline Greg; don't tell me that you don't think it's important that slaves follow orders. On my first day at the hospital you had him whipped."

"For going into a patient's room without authorisation - something that could have gotten both him and the hospital into a lot of legal trouble. Not for being ten minutes late to bed. What did you say to Jimmy?"

"I told him he could sleep on the floor outside the door tonight."

"Good, that's appropriate and a proportionate response. He'll be uncomfortable for the night and he'll know better in the future. If he repeats the behaviour then you can punish him more severely."

"I just don't want him picking up bad habits."

"From Greg you mean?"

"I didn't say that."

"I don't care if you do. I know Greg isn't the perfect slave, but he's served me well enough for over twenty years, and he also is the hospital's main diagnostician, I think I can live with that. Now," she ran a hand up Eric’s arm, moving closer to him,” are we going to talk about our slaves all night or shall we move on to something more interesting?"

He still looked annoyed for a moment but then his expression softened and he drew her towards him. "I vote for something more interesting."

* * *

Cuddy had a morning meeting across town so she stayed behind when Foreman left at the usual time, with a tired looking slave in tow. She had a few things she wanted to do before she had to leave.

She stopped into the laundry room. "Greg, come with me." She left without waiting for a response and smiled to herself when she heard him following her a few seconds later. Greg might not be a show quality slave, but he still obeyed her.

She suspected that Jimmy had been late last night because he'd been talking to Greg, or maybe even more than that - she wasn't sure. She'd seen them exchanging looks when they weren't being observed, looks that shut the rest of the world out. They had spent a lot of time together alone in the early days of her and Eric's relationship. Greg had been far more settled during that time than he had for years. He'd always had a tendency towards getting bored and getting into trouble, and after the infarction that had taken a dark edge, with his attempting self-harm on several occasions. She'd kept cases flowing to keep him from sinking into depression but she'd still been forced to have him whipped more than she wanted.

Since he'd met Jimmy Greg had only had to have been whipped once, and that was on the first day he met him. So, taking everything into account, Cuddy was pleased that he apparently felt something for Jimmy, whether it was friendship, or more. Still, this couldn't be allowed to go too far. Jimmy had gotten careless last night.

She led Greg to his small room and opened the door.

"Kneel in the doorway," she instructed him and after a slight hesitation he did so, screwing his face up and grunting as he knelt. She rolled her eyes, she was well aware that he didn't like kneeling but she doubted it hurt that much.

She went over to the bed, stripping it back. It had been sloppily made, but she wasn't interested in that. She flipped the mattress up and retrieved two small chocolate bars underneath.

"One stroke for every piece of contraband," she reminded him of their standard arrangement and kept searching, making sure to throw as many of his things on the floor as possible. Before she was finished she had come up with three magazines that weren't on his approved reading list and some sort of cheap hand held game. There was probably more to be found but that would be enough to make her point. She gathered it all up and sent him to get a trash bag for it. When he returned she had him kneel again.

She picked up the small music player she let him have and held it out in front of him.

"Jimmy was late going to his room last night," she said, dropping the music player in the trash bag. "Go and throw these things away and then go and get the cane, I make that six strokes." The cane would make a nice impact that he would feel all day.

When he returned she had him drop his pants and bend over and she briskly delivered the strokes, he took it as stoically as always. She left the room in a mess, she'd get Jimmy to put it in order tonight - while Greg was occupied elsewhere - that should ensure that both slaves got her message loud and clear.

Glancing at her watch she told Greg to fetch her purse and go out to the car, there was just time to get to her meeting.

* * *

Greg suffered through Cuddy's meeting with the aid of long practice. His ass was burning from the six strokes with the cane she'd dealt out that morning. She was only a small woman but she always managed to make that thing sting when she used it. He'd caught a glimpse of six vivid red marks across his buttocks while he was pulling up his pants afterwards. She'd had him kneel through the meeting at her side, when he wasn't fetching and carrying for her and altogether it had been a morning he'd rather forget.

The car ride back to the hospital was uncomfortable, the slave harness didn't allow a lot of squirming around, the welts were painful and his leg was giving him hell.

At least Cuddy hadn't found the really important things he had hidden in his room; the little computer was still safe, as were his various medicinal aids and some other essentials. The loss of the little music player was a blow, but she'd taken it away before and he would probably get it back at some stage. What was most troubling was that Cuddy seemed to realise that he was the reason for James' tardiness the night before. Foreman might have bought the story about kitchen cabinet cleaning but Cuddy obviously thought there was something else there. She had let Greg know that by searching his room, something she rarely did. 

He'd made himself vulnerable by allowing an attraction with James to form. He hadn't allowed himself to feel _anything_ , let alone love, for anyone for a long time. Now Cuddy had one more thing to use against him, to try and hold him in check, she only had to threaten James to get to him.

Last night, when James was in his room, he'd wanted him to stay, whatever the consequences. He didn't care about possible punishment for himself, but he could have thrown away everything they already had in the quest for something more. He couldn't allow himself to be overcome by his emotions like that again. They had to be a lot more careful - Foreman and Cuddy couldn't suspect that there was anything between them other than friendship, and even that was forbidden for slaves. One of them would be sold instantly if their owners thought there was something between them. If James were sold he'd never see him again. It would be better that they just stayed as friends rather than risk that.

He'd tell James that the first chance they had to be alone. He was sure that he wouldn't like it, but they didn't have an alternative.

* * *

James bent to his work with a sigh. After he had been late going to his room a few days ago Foreman had ensured that he was kept very busy at night. His present task was to clean all the baseboards of the large house. It had been a long day already, with extra work in the laundry at the hospital and endless hours of kneeling by Foreman's side. Then there had been dinner preparation, a hurried meal snatched while Foreman and Cuddy ate and then cleaning up. Foreman had set him to work on the baseboards while he and Cuddy watched television in the main room. Foreman made a point of coming out every half hour or so, presumably to check that James was still working. Greg had been sent to his room after dinner to work on editing a paper that Chase had written and James couldn't get there without crossing through the room where Foreman was.

The night after the 'late to bed' incident James had been sent to clear up Greg's room. Cuddy had searched it and it was in complete disarray. Greg hadn't mentioned it but James saw that the little music player, one of Greg's most prized possessions, was missing. Greg also hadn't said that he'd been punished but James had been able to see it, in the way he walked, and the pain lines on his face. Greg had paid the price for James' carelessness.

When they had managed to have a few minutes alone together to talk Greg had decided, for both of them, that they shouldn't try and be together in that way anymore. He was worried that James would be sold away from here if Foreman or Cuddy found out. James had to admit that his fears weren't unfounded. Back in the Slave Training Facility two slaves had been caught having sex with each other, in the rare moments when they weren't being trained. Every slave in the Facility had been gathered to watch the punishment. They hadn't been whipped, because that might lessen their sale value, but they'd been harshly paddled and then caned and one of them had been taken away from the facility as soon as the punishment was over. All the slaves had been forbidden from even touching each other after that, except when it was necessary for training, and the other slave involved had been kept in isolation for the rest of his stay at the Facility. 

He glanced at the cheap watch he wore, ten minutes until ten. He stood up, one hand on his aching back, and quickly gathered up his cleaning things. He made sure that he'd left everything tidy and then went to the main room and knelt in the doorway, hands behind his back. He was now required to report to Foreman every evening before going to his room, to ensure he wouldn't be late again.

"Sir, ma'am, do you require anything further tonight?" He asked when they turned their attention towards him.

"Have you finished your work?" Foreman asked, still half watching the movie.

"The downstairs ones are all done, sir. I haven't done the first floor ones yet."

"You can do them tomorrow; get up half an hour earlier."

"Yes, sir."

Go and get another bottle of wine for us and then you're dismissed."

"Yes, sir." James went through to the kitchen, fetched the wine and two fresh glasses and took them through, only to find Cuddy on the phone to the hospital.

"Put those down and go and get Greg and both of you go and wait by the door, we're going to the hospital." Foreman said. "Be quick about it."

"Yes, sir." He hurried off, going quickly to Greg's room.

Greg was lying on his bed, a journal in one hand, a pen in the other. He looked up when he heard James come in.

"You shouldn't be here." He glanced at the clock that hung over his bed. "You'll be late, we talked about this..."

"No, something has happened at the hospital, they're going back in. We have to go wait by the door."

Greg sat up and took off his glasses, discarding the journal.

"What is it?"

"I don't know. Something big I think. Come on, we have to go."

* * *

They arrived at the hospital to find a couple of police cars parked outside, and a small crowd on the sidewalk to the right of the main entrance. Cuddy walked up to the nearest police officer and introduced herself and they were taken through the crowd to the officer in charge. Greg could see a body on the ground with a couple of police standing nearby.

"Detective Lundy," the police officer introduced herself in response to Cuddy's greeting.

She glanced at Greg and James who was standing quietly by Foreman's side and then back at Cuddy.

"Maybe we should talk in private."

"This will be all over the hospital tomorrow, they'll hear about it anyway."

Lundy shrugged. "Okay. Well, it appears that the dead slave was in your slave treatment ward. He got hold of a scalpel somehow and stabbed a couple of nurses who tried to stop him."

"The nurses are okay?" Cuddy interrupted.

"Superficial wounds. Your emergency staff are seeing to them, we haven't had a chance to interview them yet. He used one of them as a hostage to get past the security guard and then fled. The security guard raised the alarm and sealed off the hospital. Apparently the slave was trapped inside and made his way up to the roof and then jumped. He nearly took out a guy on the sidewalk."

"Has his owner been informed?"

"He was owned by the Chairman of this hospital - a Mr Vogler, according to the staff we've talked to. We rang him but he declined to come in. He said you would handle it and to just dispose of the body." Lundy shrugged. "We have the slave's ID off his collar, formal identification isn't necessary but we will require an autopsy." 

"I'd like to see the body before you move it."

"Sure," Lundy waved a hand. "Over there - it's not pretty."

"We're doctors, I think we'll cope," Cuddy said drily and walked over to the body. As he hadn't been told to stay behind Greg followed and when he glanced around he found Foreman and James standing over the body of the slave.

Lundy was right, it wasn't pretty. Greg recognised the slave - he'd seen him with Vogler around the hospital a few times. He was only wearing a thin pair of hospital scrubs - standard garb for the male slaves in the slave ward - and his feet were bare. His back was exposed and it was easy to see he'd been recently beaten, severely; the marks disappeared under the waistband of the pants. His collar still remained firmly around his broken neck. Greg had a sudden impulse to step forward and cut it off - to let this slave have the freedom in death he couldn't have in life.

He heard a distressed noise and looked up to see James staring at the body, his face pale. James Wilson, the oncologist, would have seen his fair share of death, and ravaged bodies. Jimmy, the slave, wasn't used to it.

"It's Jake," James said and then found three pairs of eyes on him. He bit his lip, obviously thinking he'd said too much but then straightened and me their eyes. "His name was Jake."

"We'll need the slave's admission chart, and his medical records if you have them," Lundy said, coming over to them from where she'd been talking to another officer. "And I'll need to interview the nurses when they're able. This will all be passed to the Slave Unit to look into - they'll probably want to come and check your security arrangements. It's a serious matter, a slave attacking a free person. You might want to review hospital procedures for the slave ward yourself. Even the most docile slave can become frightened and agitated when they're hurt. If you're not routinely restraining them in the ward you should start."

"Yes, thank you, officer," Cuddy said, her tone cool. 

Once Lundy had moved away Cuddy looked at Greg.

"Once the body has been taken to the morgue I want you to have a look at it. An autopsy will be conducted in the morning but I want your impressions. Go over his medical records too, go and get them from the slave ward while you're waiting for the body to be taken down. Make a copy for the officer and one for yourself, I'll phone through to the ward and tell them you have permission."

"What am I looking for?" Greg asked. "Slave fell off the roof; pretty sure cause of death might have something to do with that."

"That's enough, Greg. Just do what you're told. You're looking for anything unusual. Take Jimmy, he can make himself useful and you probably shouldn't be wandering around by yourself at the moment. Do not provoke anyone; people are likely to be jumpy about slaves tonight."

She turned away and Greg went to move off. He looked around for James; he was still staring at the body on the ground. He nudged him and James looked up at him, his face pale.

"Come on, he's not going to get anything but deader with you staring at him. Let's go." He took hold of James' arm lightly, and James finally pulled himself away and fell into step beside him.

* * *

It was the early hours of the morning before slaves and owners both left the hospital. Greg was clutching the complete medical file of the dead slave, including the admission and treatment notes from his stay in the slave ward. His quick reading of them, and his viewing of the body, confirmed his opinion that Jake had been severely abused. He didn't need the confirmation really; he knew firsthand what Vogler was capable of. He'd also seen the man with his slaves, and talked to a few of them. Other people in the hospital gossiped too - it was well known that his treatment of his slaves went beyond 'discipline'. Jake probably hadn't set out to harm anyone else, he just wanted to escape, or maybe he really did intend to commit suicide all along. Nobody but Jake would know, and Jake could no longer tell anyone.

He found sleep elusive; the image of the dead body and the blood at the entrance to the slave ward stayed with him. He doubted that there was a slave alive who hadn't thought of escape, or of suicide. Both were tantalising options when you faced a lifetime of slavery with no hope of freedom except when you died. Every slave had both a location chip surgically implanted, and a tracking device in their collar. Any runaway slave would be quickly tracked down and punishment was severe - whipping, isolation and then mind-wiping. Being caught meant losing any little bit of yourself you had managed to hold onto. There weren't many runaways.

After lying awake and staring at the ceiling for a long time he sat up, turned the light on and grabbed the file again. He was reading Jake's doctor's notes - perfunctory at best - when he heard the door opening.

James quietly slipped inside, shutting the door behind him.

"I couldn't sleep," he said, coming to sit next to Greg on the bed.

"You shouldn't be here. What if..."

"They're asleep and I really don't care."

"James... "

"Jake is dead. I didn't know him; I asked him his name once, that's all. Maybe nobody really knew him and now he's dead because of Vogler, and no-one is going to give a damn. They just scraped him off the sidewalk and didn't even ask why he might do something like that." He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, as if trying to rub away the tension that had gathered there. "I'll go in a minute. I just... I need to be with you for a little while."

James leaned in so that their shoulders were pressed together. After a few moments Greg put his arm around him and gathered him close and they sat together in silence.


	15. Chapter 15

Cuddy buried her head in her hands. The last couple of days had been a nightmare. It turned out that someone - even a slave - jumping off the roof of your building generated an instant storm of activity. So far she'd fielded a representative from the nurse's union, several reporters, a succession of calls from concerned (or nosy) Board members, a string of doctors who just happened to need to drop into her office, and then stayed to gossip, and a realm of insurance paperwork. The slave had been autopsied and the results and all his records sent off to the police. The sidewalk had been scrubbed clean and new security procedures implemented.

"Go and get me some coffee, Greg, and something to eat, something with sugar in it. Then go and see if Doctor Foreman has a minute, he can help me deal with some of this damned paperwork." 

Greg went off in his usual begrudging way and she sighed, she could do without his attitude on top of everything else. She briefly considered suggesting to Eric that they swap slaves for the day but decided against it, she doubted that would end well - for either Eric or Greg.

The two nurses involved in the incident had both been admitted to the hospital overnight and discharged the next morning, their injuries proved to be minor, although they were both shaken up. The nurse's union representative had threatened an immediate withdrawal of all nursing staff from the slave ward unless security was radically upgraded - which of course Cuddy had ordered. All the slaves there were now secured to their beds by at least one shackle at all times, and an extra security guard had been posted, with orders to shoot any slave who got off their bed without permission. The costs would be passed on in increased fees to the slave's owners. There was little competition in health care for slaves and PPTH had a reputation of providing good basic care at a minimal cost. The fees could stand a little increase. 

She spoken to Vogler briefly, he'd made some passing comments about the lack of security on the slave ward; comments that had been made in his usual patronising tone of voice. He'd also assured her that he wouldn't be suing the hospital for the loss of his property and had apparently expected her to be grateful for that. 

She'd skimmed Jake's medical records and had also received a report from Greg on them - he'd been admitted to the slave ward with a raging infection, and with severe dehydration. Both of those conditions could be traced to the lash marks that had covered his back and buttocks, and inadequate aftercare. The skin around his wrists had been abraded by heavy shackles and there were burns in several places around his genitals. She didn't know what the slave had done to earn such harsh punishment; the beating hadn't been carried out in the hospital nor had Vogler's slave handler given any details when he'd taken the slave to the ward. There were other signs of long term abuse on his body which Greg had described to her in vivid detail. 

She heard the sound of a throat being cleared and looked up from her computer to see a man standing in her office doorway. He was in plain clothes but had the unmistakable air of someone official. 

"Can I help you?" she asked.

The man came forward, showing her his badge and then offering his hand. "Doctor Cuddy? Detective Michael Tritter, Slave Affairs branch. I'm looking into the unfortunate incident at your hospital. I have a few questions for you."

"Of course, please take a seat." 

As he sat down Greg returned, carrying two coffees and some danishes on a tray. He was followed by Foreman and Jimmy. Foreman stopped when he saw she had a visitor but Cuddy waved him in.

"Doctor Foreman, this is Detective Tritter, he has some questions about yesterday. Doctor Foreman is my 2IC," she explained to Tritter and he nodded.

"The slaves will have to leave." Tritter said, his sharp eyes taking in Greg and Jimmy. "This is confidential. Have them wait outside, I may need to question them later."

She noticed that both slaves immediately looked at Tritter and then dropped their eyes. James looked unsettled, Greg was cooler but she could see he was also uneasy. She waved her hand at them.

"Go and wait in Doctor Foreman's office," she ordered. 

"Now, what can I do for you, Detective Tritter?" she asked, when the slaves were gone.

"The slave that died was admitted to your slave ward two days ago with injuries resulting from a beating. Now, slave discipline is left up to the owner's discretion, but as you would know, cruelty and abuse is not tolerated. Severe discipline needs to be properly logged and administered, and appropriate medical care given.

"The medical examiner says that the dead slave's case is borderline. She also said that she believes that his attending doctor on the case should have reported a suspicion of abuse to our department - doctors are mandated reporters as you know - so that we could investigate and make our own determination. No such report was made."

"You said yourself it was borderline."

Tritter nodded. "Yes, but it can reveal a pattern. Our investigations have revealed that Mr Vogler has had allegations of slave abuse levelled at him before. He has also had slaves admitted to your slave ward before. I am investigating the circumstances of those admissions, and whether your slave ward is meeting legal guidelines for the treatment of slaves." 

"I think you will find that our slave ward has an excellent reputation. Many hospitals do not even bother providing one as you no doubt know." Cuddy sat back in her chair and met Tritter's gaze. 

"I am sure you are correct, but I do have a few questions," Tritter replied.

"Ask away."

________________________________________

 

"What do you think that was all about?" James asked, turning around to look in the direction of Cuddy's closed office door. At least he had kept his voice down but there were eyes on them here and Greg didn't want to draw any unnecessary attention - the free people would be jumpy after yesterday's events.

"Nothing to do with you," he said shortly as he subtly steered James along the corridor to Foreman's nearby office. The sooner they got out of public view the better.

"But... "

"What do you think? That some guy from the Slave cops is going to come swooping down and save us from the evil hospital administrators? Maybe take us to a rest home for slaves? Take it from me, those guys aren't on our side, and they aren't interested in saving any slaves from anything. Whatever they want with Cuddy won't be good news for us."

"One thing I like about you, Greg, is that you're always so optimistic and cheerful."

"I'm a realist. And I've been a slave for nearly as long as you've been alive. There's not much I haven't seen."

Once they were safely in Foreman's office, and at least blocked partly from sight he put a hand on James' arm. 

"You need to try and forget about Jake. He's gone. He's not in some damned 'better place' but at least he isn't a slave now. There's been some noise from a bunch of free people, but they aren't concerned about why he was in that slave ward. They're just frightened that the big bad slave hurt a couple of them. Things could get bad - Cuddy has ordered that all slave patients are to be restrained at all times, and some of the staff have been asking her not to have slaves 'running loose' around the hospital. Keep a low profile and don't make any sudden moves in public." He spoke urgently; he'd seen this sort of thing before.

"Like we can hurt them." James said, his voice laced with contempt.

"Yeah, actually we can. Jake did. They were probably just in his way but try telling that to them. Believe me, the staff will be side eyeing you every time they see you for a while. Before now you were just Foreman's cute looking slave, now they'll look at you and wonder if you might snap and go for them with a scalpel."

Greg sat down in one of Foreman's chairs. For once they hadn't been assigned any work to do and he was quite happy to sit here and enjoy the few minutes of rest. They had to keep the door open but they should be undisturbed here until Cuddy called them. Tritter's remark that he might need to 'question them' worried him but he wasn't going to pass his concerns onto James. Neither of them had known Jake, besides knowing his name, and they hadn't been anywhere near the slave ward that night. They couldn't be implicated in what happened. 

________________________________________

 

Foreman returned to his office about half an hour later, frowning as he walked in the door and saw Jimmy and Greg both sitting down and not working. James slipped off the chair and onto his knees when he entered, Greg did not. 

"Go back to Doctor Cuddy's office," he said to Greg. It wasn't his job to teach Lisa's slave some manners. "And as you apparently have nothing better to do, Jimmy you can start cleaning this office, from head to toe. I want it spotless, or you'll start over again with a few strokes from the cane to remind you of your duties."

"Yes, sir," Jimmy said, and although Foreman watched him closely he didn't look Greg's way as Greg slipped out of the office door. 

________________________________________

 

Greg returned to Cuddy's office, she was alone now; there was no sign of Tritter. He started to head to his normal place directly behind her chair when she pointed to the chair in front of her desk.

"Sit there."

Greg looked at the chair in surprise; she never had him sit in her office, unless he was working at a desk. He'd never been offered the visitor's chair before. He quickly sat down however, this was one order he didn't mind obeying.

She got up and closed the office door and pulled the blinds. For one moment he thought she had something in mind she'd stopped ordering him to do long ago and he tensed. Her next words came as a surprise. 

"You're scared of Chairman Vogler," she said conversationally.

He didn't answer, because, what could he say? Cuddy sighed, taking a seat on the corner of the desk in front of him and staring straight at him. 

"You kneel as soon as you see him. You're uneasy in his presence; you're not scared of me, or of Doctor Foreman. But something about him rattles you. I need to know what."

"I don't like his shoes."

She slammed a hand down on the desk surface, making a resounding slapping noise. "Don't play games with me, Gregory. I've owned you for a long time. You've been at this hospital as long as I have. I know you know just about everything that goes on. You know I needed his money to build this hospital up, and you also know I didn't intend to have him be Chairman forever. Now I've got a dead slave on my hospital's record, and two injured nurses. I want him out and I'm asking you for information I can use."

He stared at her, he wanted Vogler out of the hospital as much as she did, but he didn't trust her, not one inch. Slaves didn't testify against free people, he'd learned that lesson young, and painfully. He looked away, out of the window of her office, the garden there was in full bloom.

There was silence for a few moments and then Cuddy sighed. "Very well, I think there is another way. I will just have Doctor Foreman lend Jimmy to the Chairman for a few days - that should be instructional. Now get back to work."

"No!" Greg knew she was playing him but he couldn't help himself, he would not let her do that to James. He looked back at her, bitter at what she was forcing him to do. "No, don't lend him Jimmy, like you did me." He swallowed, looking away again. Those three days had been a year ago now, but the memory was still sharp. 

"When he first came I said he could use you for the holiday weekend while I was visiting family, so he could find his way around." Cuddy said, as if only just remembering now. She'd probably forgotten the day after she came back. He would never forget. "What did he do? You looked fine when I came back."

He kept looking at the garden outside. "He knew he couldn’t do me permanent, or even visible, damage. But he knows... how to hurt someone without leaving a mark. Lots of ways of doing that." He fell silent, he wasn't telling her more. She might own him but there were some things that belonged to him alone. 

There was another long silence and then Cuddy pressed a button on her phone.

"Detective Tritter? You can come back in now."

He looked back at her in shock. 

"Detective Tritter is investigating the Chairman to see if he mistreats his slaves. You'll tell him everything Vogler did to you, that's an order. If you don't tell him here he'll take you down to the station and I'm sure that you'll tell him then."

Tritter entered the office and his gaze swept over Greg. "Thank you, Doctor Cuddy. Would you like to stay or shall I talk to Greg alone?"

"I'll leave you to it," Cuddy said, getting up from her perch on the corner of the desk and leaving the office.

When the door had shut behind her Tritter took up her former position and looked at Greg, his jaws working as he methodically chewed gum. He reached over and picked up Greg's walking cane from where it was leaning against the chair. Swinging it with one hand he pointed it to the ground at his feet, his message clear. 

Greg hesitated, and Tritter lashed out with the cane, striking him across his right shin and then he pointed at the ground again. Gritting his teeth against the pain in his shin Greg got off the chair and knelt on the floor at Tritter's feet. 

"Good boy." Tritter tapped the cane against Greg's shoulder. "Now, tell me how he hurt you."

________________________________________

 

James waited until the early hours of the morning, when he was sure both Foreman and Cuddy were asleep and then quietly crept out of his room and down the stairs, socks on his feet to deaden any noise. At the foot of the staircase he waited for a minute - if he got caught here he'd be in trouble but at least Greg would be spared - but there was no sign of either of them. With the adrenaline rushing through his blood and his heart pounding he made it the rest of the way to Greg's bedroom, tapping lightly on the door and then letting himself in. 

"You shouldn't keep doing this," Greg protested but he was already sliding over in the bed making room for him and James slipped happily in front of him, spooning up against Greg's front. 

To James' disappointment Greg had been right and nothing had come of Jake's death and Tritter's appearance at the hospital. Tritter hadn't even asked to talk to James, and Greg had said he hadn't talked to him either. Vogler had come to Foreman's office a few times with a new slave in tow. He'd made a couple of suggestions that they should trade slaves for a night but to James' relief Foreman had turned him down flat. The second time Foreman had added that he preferred to keep his slave alive, thanks, and a flash of anger had crossed Vogler's usually genial expression. 

Since Jake's death James had taken to sneaking downstairs during the night as much as he could. Greg usually made some sort of protest but James didn't care. Jake's death had shown him that nothing was permanent, nothing was certain, and that both he and Greg were really powerless to determine their own futures. Foreman could leave the hospital, he and Cuddy could break up, every time he saw Greg it might be the last time. He needed the small amount of comfort, and the feeling of having at least some control over his own life, that being with Greg brought him, and he thought that Greg did too. 

He screwed his head around and kissed Greg, silencing his protests. Greg's strong arms pulled him around to face him and their bodies pressed against each other. Greg had light stubble on his cheeks and chin, Lisa being nowhere near as particular as Foreman when it came to her slaves' grooming, and it scratched at James' face. He reluctantly pulled back.

"You should try shaving some time," he said - he couldn't take the risk of having any beard burn. 

"I'll do it right now," Greg said with a groan but made no move to get up. Instead he reached back out to James. James slipped his kiss and instead wriggled down in the bed and engulfed one of Greg's nipples in his mouth. Greg groaned again and reached out a hand to tangle in James' hair. 

"You better stop, unless you want to take care of that," he gestured down his body. 

James hesitated; they hadn't done anything more than kissing prior to this. Then he reached down and took Greg in his hand. He didn't want to use his mouth, unpleasant memories of kneeling in front of Foreman filled his head, but he wanted to do this, he wanted to bring them both pleasure. 

"James, no...” Greg said, noting the hesitation. "You don't have to..."

James looked up at him and smiled, slipping himself out of his own pants. He pressed himself up against Greg and reached back up to kiss him lightly. "I want to. This is for us, this is our choice. Nobody told us to do this. That's the difference."

It didn't take long, their bodies wrapped around each other, their urgent movements bringing them both to completion. James collapsed against Greg afterwards, resting against him, feeling sated. He knew he would have to get up and return to his own room. They had been quick, and quiet, but the risk was there, it would always be there. He wished that he could just lie here, and sleep with Greg and spend every minute of the rest of his life with him, somewhere safe, somewhere they could both be free. He touched the collar around his neck and found the movement arrested by Greg's long fingers closing around his.

"Don't. You can't change it. Don't wish for what you can't have." He said it bitterly, and James could envision what it had been like for him, dreaming of a free life since childhood, and finally accepting that dreaming wouldn't make something happen. "Nothing ever changes."

James shook his head - he couldn't buy into Greg's pessimism. So much had changed for him already since that first week as Foreman's slave. He'd learned so much thanks to Greg, and now he knew what love felt like. Maybe he'd taught Greg that as well. 

"You need to go," Greg said, kissing him gently on the forehead. 

James sat up; retrieving his pants and slipping them back on. He stood up and then bent down to kiss Greg one last time. 

"Same time tomorrow?" he asked with a grin as he made his way to the door. He didn't wait for an answer, going out the door into the darkened hallway beyond. He quickly sobered as he concentrated on walking as quietly as possible. At the foot of the stairs he paused, listening intently but not hearing anything from above. 

He went up the stairs as quickly as possible, feeling acutely vulnerable. He had an excuse ready but he knew he would be in deep trouble, even if that excuse was accepted, if he was caught. He eased open his bedroom door, wincing at every noise and then gently closed it behind him. He released a sigh of relief as he stood in the darkness inside.

He'd made a couple of steps towards the bed when he heard it, the sound of a door being opened. Heart pounding he quickly dived for the bed, pulling the covers up around himself, toeing off his socks and curling up on his side, facing the wall. He closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing and racing heart. Somebody was probably just going to the bathroom. It had been a narrow escape...

His door was opened and the light was turned on. 

"Jimmy," the stern voice came. 

He rolled over slowly, blinking his eyes and yawning, as if awoken from a deep sleep. 

"Jimmy, on your knees, now!" Foreman ordered and he stumbled out of bed, trying to give the impression of utter confusion. He sunk to his knees by the bed, hanging his head.

Foreman stalked into the room, looking everything over. 

"Were you out of this room?"

"Sir? No, I was asleep, sir. Did you call me? I'm sorry, I didn't hear you."

"Look up."

James looked up, meeting Foreman's eyes. He put all the effort he could into looking open and innocent.

Foreman folded his arms and scowled at him. 

"When I come in here I expect you to present yourself properly, immediately, not to stay lying in bed."

"Yes, sir." James knew better than to try and argue that he was slow to obey because he was sleeping. Slaves didn't make excuses. 

Foreman stared at him for few moments longer while James held his breath. Foreman must have heard something, or thought he heard something. Finally, Foreman nodded.

"We will do an additional training session in the morning; I won’t have you being slow to obey." He left without another word, leaving the door open behind him. 

James felt himself shaking in reaction and looked longingly at the door, but he couldn't close it when Foreman had left it open. He waited for a few minutes on his knees to see if Foreman would return but when he didn't he got back into bed. It was a long time before he could get back to sleep.


	16. Chapter 16

Doctor Cuddy's office was crowded with people. Greg was in his usual position behind her chair, Foreman was seated in front of her desk, with James kneeling besides him, and Vogler had come to discuss the latest round of initiatives he wanted to implement, with one of his slaves in tow as usual. James peered at the female slave, kneeling by Vogler's chair, her head held high by the thick collar around it. Her hands were locked behind her, and a chain led from her collar to the arm of Vogler's chair. She didn't move, and although her head was raised her eyes were downcast.

"Your slave seems rather interested in mine, Doctor Foreman." James started at the words; he looked around to see Vogler staring down at him, a calculating look on his face. Foreman looked down at him, frowning.

"Eyes on the floor, Jimmy," he snapped.

James lowered his gaze quickly and shifted uncomfortably, aware of their scrutiny and conscious of Greg standing in the corner of the room.

"I wish you would consider lending him to me for the weekend, I have a great deal of experience in disciplining slaves. I believe this is your first one, Doctor Foreman?"

James held his breath, Vogler had made this offer before and Foreman had always refused but he knew Foreman had been displeased with him the last few days. The additional 'training' sessions he'd been putting James through were proof of that, as was James' sore butt from the times where Foreman had decided he hadn't been sufficiently responsive to his commands. James hadn't indulged in any more early morning visits to Greg's room since that night when he'd almost been caught, but it was trying his patience to live in the same house as Greg and hardly spend any time alone with him. He could almost feel Greg's eyes on him now.

"As I have said before, I am not interested in lending Jimmy to anyone. Now, I believe you were telling us about the clinical trials you want to start running?"

James sighed in relief and relaxed slightly, while still keeping his eyes firmly on the ground, but then he heard the door open to Cuddy's office and the sound of several footsteps. He looked up cautiously to see Detective Tritter and two uniformed police officers entering the office.

"Edward Vogler? I have a warrant here to seize this slave, and any others you may have on the premises." Tritter slapped a piece of paper into Vogler's hand and one of the police officers reached down to detach the free end of the chain that was fastening Vogler's slave to his chair. The other man carried a blue coloured collar with a police insignia emblazoned on it and he snapped it over the slave's existing collar.

Vogler jumped to his feet in outrage.

"You can't take my slave! What are your grounds?"

"Alleged mistreatment of several slaves over a period of time. It's all in the warrant. You will have a chance to answer the charges but in the meantime we are taking your slaves into custody. There is a team at your residence taking the ones you have there."

The slave was tugged to her feet by one of the police officers and they started to lead her away by the chain attached to her collar; her hands still manacled behind her back. She was staring at the ground but James could see that she was trembling in fear.

Vogler tried to follow them but Tritter stood in the way.

"I'm sorry sir, the slaves will be held safely in our custody for now while our investigation is concluded. If it is decided that you are an unfit person to hold slaves they will be sold at auction and the proceeds returned to you, less all costs," Tritter spoke calmly but firmly. "Now, do you have any other slaves here in the hospital?"

"No, that female was the only one," Vogler snapped. "This is ridiculous, you can't take my slaves - I discipline them, of course, they belong to me – I don’t tolerate a badly behaved slave. The slave who died was nothing to do with me; hospital security was lax and allowed a slave to threaten free people." He looked down at the paper in his hand. "Whoever made these allegations is lying. I need to know who it was."

"They came as a result of our investigation into the death of your slave - Jake, here at the hospital. We also interviewed Doctor Cuddy's slave who made some accusations against you." He gestured casually to where Greg was still standing behind Cuddy's chair, taking in everything that had happened. "An individual slave's testimony doesn't mean much of course, but taken with the other evidence we had from your slave's medical records, and the hospital's admission records there is enough there to proceed with a case. The state does not approve of excessive abuse of slaves."

Vogler moved towards Greg where he was standing, watching the proceedings. James shifted on his knees, not liking the way Vogler was looking at Greg. Vogler was large man, taller than Greg and heavily built. James looked up at Foreman who was still sitting in his chair, watching Vogler, with a smug expression on his face - James knew that Foreman disliked Vogler, and he appeared to be enjoying his humiliation. Cuddy moved out of Vogler’s way, leaving Greg in the man's sights. James looked at Detective Tritter, hoping that he would intervene, but the detective was just standing by the door, watching.

"What did you tell them?" Vogler growled. His face was inches away from Greg's. "On your knees when I talk to you, slave."

Greg held his ground, tightening his grip on the cane in his hand. He didn't answer, although his eyes flicked to Tritter, as if hoping for protection from that quarter. James could see he wasn't going to get any. It would probably serve Tritter's case if Vogler harmed Greg.

James, scrambled to his feet, his eyes locked on the men in the corner of the office. Vogler had his fist raised.

"Down, Jimmy. Now!" he heard Foreman order but James ignored him and went to move towards Greg when Vogler lashed out with his fist, sending Greg crashing into the wall behind him and then stumbling onto the ground, Vogler followed the punch with two heavy kicks to Greg's body. James ran forward, getting between Vogler and Greg and pushing him off the fallen man.

"Stop it," he yelled, grabbing Greg's cane from where it had landed and turning around to hit out with it, almost blindly. He felt it connect to something and then he was being grabbed by strong arms and held. The cane fell from his grasp. He struggled against Foreman's restraining hold and was wrestled to the ground, face down. Foreman held him pinned.

"That's enough Jimmy, be still," Foreman panted, slapping him on the shoulder. His wrists were grabbed and a pair of cuffs roughly locked onto them.

"Greg!" James called out, not caring as his face was ground into Cuddy's carpet.

"It's okay, I'm okay." He heard Greg's voice, sounding muffled. "Just be quiet, James. Don't make it worse."

He went limp on the floor, turning his head so he could see Greg staggering to his feet, blood streaming out of his nose. No-one had gone to help him, but at least Vogler was standing back from him, his hand clasped over his arm. Tritter had moved forward and was standing next to Vogler.

"I'll take him, sir." A security guard appeared next to Foreman, bending down he snapped a leash onto James' collar and fastened it to the cuffs holding his hands behind his back - effectively stopping him from moving. Foreman stood up, brushing off his pants.

"Your slave attacked me, legally that means I can claim him if I choose," Vogler said. He indicated his arm, where James had connected with the cane. "I'll teach him some manners."

"Maybe you folks could sort that out later," Tritter drawled. "Mr Vogler, I need you to come down to the station to answer some questions about the allegations of abuse, and to deal with the paperwork. It shouldn't take long. And until these charges are determined you are legally prevented from holding any slave. If you want to make a claim on that slave you will have to wait until a determination is made on these other matters. I'm sure Doctor Foreman will take care of him until then."

There was a moment's silence as Vogler glared at all of them and then he bent down next to James and spat in his face.

"You're mine, boy. Don't think you're going to get away with that." He moved his foot back, as if to kick.

"That's enough." Foreman moved to stand between them. "I think you'd better go now."

Vogler straightened up, brushing off his clothes. “Sure, I’ll go. I’ll go and get this silly accusations dismissed and then I’ll come back for this slave.” He nodded to Detective Tritter. “After you, detective.” He appeared to be the smooth professional again, the rage of a few moments ago forgotten.

After Vogler and Tritter had left Cuddy took charge. She addressed the security guards.

"Take Jimmy down to the cells for now. Greg, go to the slave ward and get that seen to."

The security officer hauled James to his feet. His hands were still connected to his collar by the leash and the collar dug into the flesh of his neck as the guard jerked on his arms.

Greg was leaning against a wall, cradling his stomach, his nose still dripping blood. James met his eyes and saw the pain in them.

"You can't give James to Vogler," Greg said, his eyes never leaving James. "He'll kill him."

"That's enough, Greg. This is none of your business." Cuddy snapped and looked at the other security guard. "Escort Greg to the slave ward and if he can be released take him down to the cells as well, he can sit out the rest of the day in there. Open your mouth again, Greg and you can spend the next two days there." Cuddy added to Greg.

The guard holding James shoved him towards the door and he reluctantly went, casting one look back at Greg. Greg gave him a small nod - whether of reassurance or warning, James wasn't sure. 

When both slaves had been taken away and the door shut behind them Cuddy collapsed back into her office chair. The carpet was stained with Greg's blood she noticed, she'd have to get that cleaned. Foreman pulled the office blinds and then locked the door, before coming around to her side, resting one hand on her shoulder.

"Well, I guess the clinical trials can wait," he said ruefully and Cuddy laughed.

"Yes, I'm going to call the rest of the board members and if I can get enough support I'll call a special Board meeting and move to have Vogler removed as Chairman. This is our chance to get rid of him."

"They aren't serious charges, at the most he'll have his slaves confiscated," Foreman pointed out. "It's not like he's even been arrested."

"I know, but combined with what happened to his slave, and his little outburst against Greg, I think I can lever this into a wedge to get him out. He's obviously unstable. The hospital doesn't need any more bad publicity." She rubbed her temples with her fingertips; she had a headache coming on. "You'll need to contact a lawyer and see where you stand with this claim he has against Jimmy."

"Jimmy was protecting your property. Vogler could have severely injured Greg."

"Somehow I don't think my interests were what Jimmy was considering," Cuddy said drily. "You were right, they've become too close. Even if Vogler can't claim him you'll need to think about selling him. It's bad for both of them, and I can't afford to lose Greg if he ever does something stupid like that - he's too valuable to the hospital."

Foreman looked at her stubbornly. Men! You'd think she was taking away his favourite toy. Jimmy was a good slave, or had been one, but there were plenty of other slaves out there equally as good.

"Maybe you can sell him before these charges against Vogler are determined. Then at least you'll get some money for him and he won't go to Vogler - you'll have to get some legal advice on that."

"Jimmy would never have done something like that before he met Greg," Foreman pointed out, a touch sulkily. Yes, she definitely had a headache coming on.

"I'm sorry my medical genius slave corrupted your perfect little mind wiped slave but it's a bit late to be worrying about it now. What's done is done. Leave him in the cells for a couple of days to cool down while you work out your options."

Cuddy just hoped that Greg wouldn't go to pieces when Jimmy was sold. After the incident with his leg he'd been impossible for a year or more, and unstable for a lot longer. These last few weeks were the best he'd been in a long time. Damn Vogler and his temper for forcing this on them.

* * *

Greg was taken down to the cells after he'd been treated in the slave ward. His nose had proven to be broken, and both his eyes were swollen; his face hurt like hell. Vogler's kicks had bruised his ribs but nothing else was broken. His main concern was for James - the idiot was in deep trouble now, and for nothing. Greg had been hit before; he hadn't needed James to come to his rescue. He could scarcely believe James had done that - nobody in Greg's life had ever done anything like that for him before.

He had a brief moment of hope that he might be put in with James but of course he was marched past the cell with the closed door and placed in the empty one. Once inside he hugged his arms around his sore ribs and sat down, his back against the thick stone wall that separated the two cells. After he heard the guard retreat he tapped on the wall. There was a moment's pause and then an answering knock. He leant his head back and imagined James doing the same on the other side of the wall. James must be scared by now, the adrenaline having worn off. Greg was scared for him as well.

"Hold on, James," he said aloud, hoping that his words would be heard. “Hold on.”


	17. Chapter 17

James lent back against the cold wall of his small cell and sighed. It had been three days since he'd seen another human being. At least, he thought it had been three days; the cell was lit only with an artificial light that never went out. He'd slept fitfully on the bare concrete floor and lost track of time. 

Once the adrenaline of his fight with Vogler had worn off he'd been terrified. He'd been shoved in here, with a small supply of food and water, and the door slammed shut behind him. 

The chain and cuffs had been removed at least. He'd sat huddled on the floor until he'd heard footsteps in the corridor outside. When the other cell door had been opened and slammed shut he knew that it was Greg. Greg hadn't done anything wrong; he shouldn't have been brought down here. When he'd heard Greg knocking on the wall he'd answered him, wishing they had some sort of code they could use to communicate. He could have probably been heard if he yelled, but that wouldn't have been wise - he wasn't sure how these cells were monitored, if they were monitored at all.

They'd come for Greg a few hours later and there had been no more knocking. He was relieved that Greg hadn't been detained for long, but felt his absence keenly. Just knowing that he was there, on the other side of the wall had helped keep his fear at bay. 

He hadn't been alone like this since he'd woken up in the Slave Training Facility with an empty mind. Every minute of his time had been allocated since that day; he'd had work to do, and people supervising him constantly. The only time he got alone for the most part was when he was sleeping, and he was usually too exhausted by the long days to do anything but stumble into bed and fall instantly asleep. 

Now this was hours and hours of time in isolation, with no-one to talk to, or see, no-one to give him orders, and no work to do. It should have been paradise but instead he found himself going crazy with the lack of activity and the quiet. Over everything hung the fear of what was going to happen when Foreman, or Cuddy, had him released from here. He would probably be whipped, and he might be given to Vogler. He might be separated from Greg forever. His impetuous actions must have revealed to Cuddy and Foreman just how close they were. One of the first things he’d learned in his new life was that a slave should never have close association with another slave. Cuddy and Foreman must be aware of that prohibition as well. Foreman had made it clear to James several times that he regarded Greg as a bad influence on him. His actions in defending Greg in Cuddy’s office must have confirmed all Foreman’s fears.

As time passed he wondered if they just intended to leave him here forever, to rot in this small cell. His food supply was running out and, although he'd rationed it carefully, his water was half gone. The bucket with his waste in was making the whole cell stink. He found himself straining for a sound, any sound at all, from outside his cell, but there was nothing. 

He was alone, and forgotten.  
________________________________________

 

"I can't keep him locked up in that cell, forever," Foreman said as they ate lunch three days after the 'incident'. They were alone in Cuddy's office, Greg having been sent to get his own lunch. 

Foreman had taken Cuddy's advice and seen a lawyer about what had happened, one who specialised in slave law. The lawyer's opinion had been that Vogler had a valid claim over Jimmy - that was standard on the rare occasions that a slave assaulted a free man. Several issues muddied the water, including Vogler's attack on a slave who belonged to Cuddy - who was Foreman's partner, and Vogler's current status as an owner who'd had his slaves confiscated for cause. The lawyer had suggested that they get together with Vogler and his lawyer to reach a settlement. In the meantime, he'd advised, no formal disciplinary action which would result in physical harm should be taken against Jimmy - as Vogler had levied a claim over the slave. The lawyer also pointed out that a whipping would diminish the slave's value due to the scars it would leave, and the whipping being entered on his record. So Foreman had left Jimmy to stew in the hospital's cell while they tried to negotiate a deal with Vogler.

The problem was that Vogler hadn't been seen since he left the hospital with Tritter. They'd waited for him to come back to the hospital, demanding custody of _his_ slave, but he hadn't been seen for the remainder of that day, or the next. Any efforts to contact him since then had failed, he wasn't answering his cell, or the phone at his home. 

Greg had been all but useless at home, his injuries from the beating had him shuffling around in pain, and he seemed to have lost any motivation he'd had to do his duties. Cuddy was concerned about what he was going to be like if Foreman sold Jimmy, or worse, if he had to be surrendered to Vogler. Luckily he didn't have a case at the moment, but this state of affairs couldn't be allowed to continue.

"If Vogler doesn't show by the end of the day get him released. He might as well work as sit on his ass in a cell all day long," Cuddy said.

"He'll think he's gotten away with something if I don't punish him," Foreman said with a scowl. 

"He's spent three days in a cell. And he _was_ only defending Greg from Vogler. I don't think he's going to turn into a serial killer. Besides, there are other ways of punishing a slave than by whipping him. Take away the privileges you've given him to start with." Cuddy ate some more of her salad as she contemplated the situation. "Whatever deal you end up making with Vogler will be sure to include some sort of punishment for Jimmy."

"If Vogler ever shows up," Foreman said. "It's been three days and he's disappeared off the face of the earth."  
________________________________________

 

Greg was filing some papers in Cuddy's office when Foreman came in, James trailing behind him. Greg nearly dropped the papers in surprise; he hadn’t known that Foreman was planning to release James, although he was relieved. Three days in that cell was three days too long. James looked like hell, he'd been in the same clothes since he was taken down there, and he looked like he'd barely slept. Foreman normally had him dressed immaculately, and he was always scrubbed, and clean-shaven. Now he had a layer of stubble on his chin and upper lip, and his clothes were wrinkled and dirty. He quickly glanced at Greg when he came into the office but his gaze dropped to the ground again and he sunk to his knees without being told, every inch the dutiful slave. 

"Time to call it quits for the day," Foreman said to Cuddy, ignoring both Greg and his own slave. "The paperwork will wait until tomorrow."

"There'll be more of it then," Cuddy sighed but she started packing up her desk and Greg picked up her bag and coat. He eyed the kneeling James, he hoped they'd have time to talk for a while when they got home.

Cuddy also looked at Jimmy where he was kneeling at Foreman's feet. "Nothing from Vogler?"

Foreman shook his head and Greg's interest was piqued. He'd been expecting to see Vogler around a lot the last three days, and had been dreading it. Vogler had made a claim on James, and according to Greg's research on the subject, he had a good case, despite his attack on Greg. The law didn't provide a lot of protection against slaves being attacked, but there were severe laws against a slave attacking a free man. When Vogler hadn't appeared he'd been as puzzled as both Cuddy and Foreman. Vogler's non-appearance could only be good news for James but it was an anomaly, a puzzle. 

He and James trailed behind Cuddy and Foreman as they walked out of the hospital. James moved closer so that his arm was brushing Greg's as they walked. He looked up and gave Greg a quick smile, a moment of reassurance that he was okay. Greg smiled back, resisting the urge to grab him and never let go.  
________________________________________

 

"Did Foreman talk to you about anything?" Greg asked quietly as he helped James cook the dinner. 

James shook his head. "No, I was escorted up to his office, he frowned at me a bit, and then we went straight to Cuddy's office." He started chopping up some carrots. "I was expecting something a bit more dramatic. I thought I might never see you again."

Greg swallowed hard, he'd had the same thoughts himself, and he hadn't been the one locked up in isolation for three days. 

"Vogler hasn't been back. Nobody has seen or heard from him since that day. Which is good luck for you. What the fuck were you thinking with that bone-headed move?" Fear made his tone harsh.

"Oh, I was thinking that Vogler was kicking you while you were down and none of _them_ were making a move to help you." James expression darkened. "He hurt you." He reached for Greg and put a gentle finger on the bruising around his nose. "Is it broken?"

Greg took a step back, breaking the contact, and looked towards the doorway. "Be careful, they already think we're 'too close'." 

James cracked a small smile. "Well, we are, aren't we?"

Greg thought about that night, the last time James had come to his room. His own face broke into a smile. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. But they don't need to have any more ammunition; you're in enough trouble already."

James nodded and got back to his vegetable preparation. "So, if Vogler hasn't been around what is going to happen to me?” 

"You're going to be a good slave, and keep your head down. Don't draw attention to yourself at all."

"You think Foreman is going to forget I hit Vogler?"

"I think Foreman wishes he could have got in a few hard hits with the cane himself. He doesn't give a fuck that you hit Vogler, but you did embarrass him by not being the perfectly trained slave that he thinks makes him look good. Expect him to crack down on you, give you more 'training'. Just be what he wants for a while."

"If Vogler comes back, he'll claim me?"

"He'll try. I think Foreman will fight him on it." Cuddy and Foreman hadn't talked much about the situation, at least not while Greg was in earshot.

James put the dinner in to cook and then started to wipe down the surfaces. After a few moments of silence he turned to face Greg.

"You made me sick rather than let Vogler have me for a night - what did you think he was going to do to me?"

"He's not going to have you."

"But..."

"No, it's not going to happen. Foreman won't let that happen to you." Greg didn't believe it, he didn't think Foreman cared about what happened to James but Greg wouldn't let Vogler have James. He could kill Vogler if it came to that, and then James would be safe. He knew how to do it, and Vogler thought he was harmless – he wouldn’t see it coming. 

Once the dinner was ready they took it through to the living room where Cuddy and Foreman were sitting on the couch watching television. As they placed the food down and poured wine the news came on and Greg heard a familiar name. He turned to look at the screen. Edward Vogler was shown being arrested and hustled into a police car.

_"Billionaire Edward Vogler was today arrested on unspecified charges, but they are believes to result from his alleged involvement in organised crime, including money laundering. Today's arrest is apparently the culmination of several months of investigation by a specially formed task force. It is believed that the turning point of the investigation was the seizure of Vogler's slaves three days ago due to allegations of cruelty. There is a rumour that the slaves have provided crucial evidence to the police."_

The reporter on the screen kept talking, detailing Vogler's rise to fame and fortune, and his recent Board position at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, but Greg didn't listen. He stopped what he was doing and stared at James. James looked equally stunned, his eyes wide as he met Greg's gaze. 

"Well, now we know why we haven't seen him." Foreman said. 

"Organised crime, and that's where he got the money he's put into my hospital," Cuddy said, her phone already in her hand. "We need to get ahead of this. We'll have reporters calling, donors, the rest of the Board and who knows who else." 

Foreman was getting his phone out too, and then he glanced at Greg and James who were still looking at the television.

"Why are you two standing around? Go and clean up. You have your list of chores Jimmy, get moving on those after you clean up - you're three days behind. I'll be inspecting your work later. Greg, help Jimmy clean the kitchen and then go to your room and work on that paper."

They hurried out of the room, to the kitchen. They could just hear both Cuddy and Foreman on their phones. Greg took the chance to steal a quick kiss from James, putting his arms around him and bringing him into an embrace. Then he quickly released him. They couldn't take any chance of being caught. Not now, with everything so uncertain.

"Well, I guess Vogler won't be getting me," James said, a happy grin on his face. "I can stay with you." 

Maybe. Greg knew how things worked. Both Cuddy and Foreman would have realised that James only did a reckless thing like attacking Vogler because he cared for Greg. Greg suspected that, with or without Vogler, they intended doing something to separate them. It was possible that James hadn't been physically punished because they were concerned about Vogler's claim over him. Now, presumably, that wouldn't exist. When they had the immediate concerns resolved would Foreman decide to have Jimmy whipped, or worse, sell him?

"You still need to lie low for a while," Greg told him. "They can't know about our... relationship. No midnights visits. No physical contact when there's any chance of being seen."

" _You_ just kissed _me_ ," James pointed out.

Greg ran a hand through his hair. James was going to make it thin faster than it already was. "That's because you're just so damned cute, I couldn't help it," he growled. "Stop doing that pouty thing with your lips and I'll stop kissing you."

James laughed quietly and peered out into the hallway. No sign of anyone. He gave Greg a quick peck on the lips and then went over to the sink to start dutifully doing the dishes.  
________________________________________

 

Foreman didn't even have time to think about disciplining his slave for the next few days. Cuddy called an emergency Board meeting the morning after the arrest and Vogler was voted out unanimously. That didn't stop reporters from poking around the hospital fishing for information. Cuddy held a press conference, and put as much distance as she could between the hospital and Vogler. They then spent a solid two days on fielding questions from worried staff who were concerned about the withdrawal of Vogler's money. A lot of the money had already been spent, committed to the expansion plans of the hospital, and Foreman suspected that Vogler would be too busy with his own legal troubles to try and recoup any of it when he learned that he had been ousted from the Board. The various clinical trials Vogler had insisted on were put on hold and they both tried to present a calm and professional front of 'business as usual'. 

They worked right through Saturday and finally had things under control enough to spend Sunday at home. Their slaves cooked them a lavish Sunday breakfast and after eating that Foreman called for Jimmy to come to him. 

He frowned down at the kneeling slave. Jimmy had behaved immaculately since his stint in the cells at the hospital. Over a week had passed since his initial offence of striking Vogler, and Foreman hadn't physically punished him. Now that Vogler was incarcerated, and by all accounts was looking at life in prison - if he wasn't enslaved himself - Foreman was free to do whatever he wanted to Jimmy. Except... he didn't feel like handing out harsh punishment as this late stage. Jimmy knew that he shouldn't have attacked Vogler, but it wasn't behaviour that was likely to be repeated without similar circumstances. He could, and probably should, sell him, but he’d spent so long training him to be as he wanted that he was reluctant to start over with another slave if this one could be salvaged.

What Foreman had to do was ensure that Jimmy was totally focused on his orders, and doing whatever he could to make Foreman's life easier - as he was supposed to. Whatever this thing he had with Greg was, it had to be stopped. Tight discipline, and having every minute of his day scheduled, was the way to do that. Jimmy had been granted some freedoms since Foreman moved in with Cuddy, it was time for that to change.

He told Jimmy to follow him and went up to his room on the first floor. Then he had Jimmy remove the bed, and the small amount of furniture, taking it all down to the garage storage area. Once Jimmy returned to the room for the last time, panting from the exertion, Foreman had him kneel in the doorway. The room was empty of everything but a closet with Jimmy's clothes in it, his spare pair of shoes sat neatly in the bottom of the closet. There was one folded up blanket and a thin pillow in one corner of the room. 

"You'll sleep on the floor. The door will be left open at all times. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." Foreman left him kneeling there and went into the room. He'd inspected the furniture as it went out of the room, making sure that Jimmy had nothing hidden in there. It had all been clean. Now he went to the closet and searched it and the clothes thoroughly. There was nothing there either. He looked at Jimmy, frowning. It wasn't that he had expected to find much contraband, but he had thought that there would be _something_. All the slave training books he'd read had said that slaves tended to try and hoard a few small objects. The books had speculated that this was because the slave otherwise had nothing they could call their own. 

There was only one place he hadn't looked.

"Take off your clothes," he ordered. "All of them, including your shoes."

He examined Jimmy’s clothing first, it was clean. Then he picked up the shoes. There it was, a couple of pieces of paper hidden in each shoe. He examined the paper, every inch of it was covered in tiny writing. The writing included a list of the bones of a human hand, a labelled diagram of a brain, several medical school mnemonics and cramped descriptions of some common medical conditions. 

"Who gave you this?" he asked.

"I wrote it myself, sir," Jimmy said, his eyes wide.

"You, a slave, are trying to learn medicine?"

"I could help you better if I had some medical knowledge, sir."

"Like Greg?" Foreman asked sceptically.

"Yes, sir." Jimmy kept looking at him earnestly, but his body was tense and Foreman suspected that there was more here than a slave trying to be of more use to his master. 

"So, if you wrote this, who gave you the information?"

Jimmy just stared at him mutely and Foreman sighed. It didn't take a genius to work out where Jimmy had come across this knowledge. 

"Get dressed," Foreman ordered. "We're going downstairs. This situation can't continue."  
________________________________________

 

When Foreman went downstairs, with Jimmy in tow, he found Cuddy going over some notes, and Greg standing next to her. Greg had been working on a paper for the last diagnostics case, so that Chase could present it at a conference in Chicago next week. 

Foreman handed the paper he had found over to Cuddy. "Jimmy was hiding these."

Cuddy took them, quickly scanning them. She looked up at Jimmy and then across to Greg.

"You've been teaching him?"

Greg shot a quick look at Jimmy and then turned his attention back to her, he shrugged, his attitude casual.

"It seemed like he'd be more use around the hospital if he could at least tell the difference between a heart and a kidney. You said I should help him get settled in and find his way around."

"Find his way around _the hospital_ , Greg. Not the human body. It's not your place to teach Doctor Foreman's slave anything but what you were told to do. You know that." She gave the papers back to Foreman. "Do whatever you want with those, and with Jimmy. I'll deal with Greg."

Foreman folded his arms across his chest. "That's all well and good, but we need..." he glanced at the slaves, this conversation would be better held in private. He opened his mouth, intending to suggest just that to Cuddy when the doorbell rang.

"Go and get the door, Jimmy," he ordered, frustrated at the interruption. He needed to discuss this situation with Cuddy. It was beginning to look like his only option would be to sell Jimmy and look around for a slave of comparable value to him, and this time he would keep his slave well away from Greg.  
________________________________________

James was relieved that the conversation had been interrupted, but he was sure the reprieve wouldn't last long. He shouldn't have kept his notes around, but he'd liked pulling them out and reading them after a difficult day, it was like they connected him to Greg, and to his old life, even if he didn't remember it. He'd been close to blurting out to Foreman that he used to be a doctor. If he did that, if Foreman found out that he knew about his former life - well, James wasn't sure what the consequences would be, but he wasn't going to take that risk. Being mind-wiped once was bad enough.

The doorbell rang again just as he got there to answer it. He quickly pulled it open and stared at their visitors. 

Detective Tritter was standing there, with two uniformed officers. 

"Doctor Foreman lives here?" Tritter asked, already moving inside.

"Yes, sir."

"Take me to him."

James led the way back to the living room, his mind racing. Had Tritter come to arrest him because he hit Vogler? He hadn't seemed bothered at the time, and from what James understood that was a civil matter, not a criminal one. Maybe he was wrong and Vogler had made a complaint.

Cuddy stood up as Tritter entered and Foreman went to her side. James stood quietly to one side, as close to Greg as he could. 

"Detective Tritter, this is a surprise. What can we do for you? Is it about Vogler?"

"The Vogler investigation isn't my responsibility. I only deal with slave matters."

"You confiscated Vogler's slaves so that the task force investigating Vogler would be able to interview them, and maybe search his house," Cuddy said, and James felt the picture fall into place. Of course, Tritter hadn't been concerned about Jake, or his death, or the treatment of his slaves. His part of the investigation had been a means to an end.

Tritter smirked with satisfaction. "Al Capone was brought down on tax evasion charges. Sometimes the cleverest criminals make dumb mistakes - Vogler's weakness was his fondness for abusing his slaves. That slave's suicide was just the catalyst we needed."

"Glad my hospital could be of some use," Cuddy said drily. "So if this isn't about Vogler what can we do for you?"

"Well, it's Doctor Foreman I came to see. You have a slave, registration number J453667?"

James heart sunk and he looked at Greg, who had tensed up next to him. They were going to take him away.

"Jimmy, yes." Foreman waved a hand towards James. 

Tritter handed Foreman an official form. "I have authorisation to take the slave with me. He was made a slave after a murder conviction, and that conviction has been overturned - due to new information that came to light after our investigation into Vogler's organised crime syndicate.

Tritter's words took a few seconds to sink in. James remembered Greg telling him that the man he was accused of murdering was suspected of being in the mob. Tritter was still talking and Foreman was saying something but James couldn't hear them. He looked up at Greg who was staring at him, his eyes wide, shocked. 

He wasn't a murderer. He was innocent. He shouldn't have been imprisoned and he shouldn't have been mind-wiped. He had lost everything for no reason. 

"... As I said Doctor Foreman, you will be compensated for his value. Surely you don't think he should continue to be a slave when he was enslaved because of a false accusation? Doctor James Wilson is an innocent man - he deserves to go free."

"Doctor? He was a doctor?" Foreman asked, his voice incredulous. "Jimmy?"

"James," he heard himself saying. His throat was dry and he cleared it and tried again. "My name is James, not Jimmy." He met Foreman's gaze squarely, ignoring the scowl on the other's man face.

"Come on, James. I'm sure you want to get out of here," Tritter said, his jaws still working on the gum in his mouth. "Is there anything you need to take with you?"

James stared at him, still not taking everything in. Both Cuddy and Foreman seemed dumbstruck and Greg was looking at him with a stunned expression. He shook his head, he didn't have anything but the clothes on his back, and they weren't really his. Oh, there was something. He put his hand out.

"I'd like to take my notes." Foreman was still holding them, those precious pieces of paper that had tied him to the past. 

"Give him those, get his registration papers and we'll be going," Tritter said. Foreman handed them over reluctantly and went to get the registration papers. James looked at Greg again. Greg. He would have to leave Greg behind when he went. 

"I can't... “he said, then stopped, so used to hiding his feelings for the other man that he couldn't continue.

"You're going," Greg said, "if I have to kick your butt out of here myself. You can be _free_ , James - nothing is worth more than that."

 _You are,_ James thought to himself, _you're worth my freedom_. He shook his head, trying to think. He wanted Greg to come with him, to share his new life. Greg couldn't come. Greg was still a slave.

He stepped up to him, closing the distance between them, ignoring everybody else in the room. Putting his arms around him he drew him into a fierce hug. He could feel their hearts beating together. He leaned up and whispered in Greg's ear, for him alone to hear. " _Hold on_. I'll come back for you, just hold on. Promise me." He felt a tiny nod against his cheek and stepped back, wiping tears away from his eyes. "Goodbye, Greg."

He thought about saying something to Cuddy, asking her not to take any of this out on Greg, and to treat him well, but it was pointless - she would do what she wanted - he just hoped that his value to her would ensure at least a measure of fair treatment.

"I'm ready," he said to Tritter. Tritter put a hand on his shoulder and started to steer him out of the room.

Foreman got in his way, standing awkwardly in front of him. "I had no way of knowing that you used to be a doctor," he said defensively. "Or that you were innocent." 

James curled one fist into a ball by his side, the other hand still held his medical notes. One punch, to Foreman's arrogant face, just one punch, that’s all he wanted. He thought of Greg and relaxed his hand. He would do nothing to jeopardise the other man. 

"You knew I was a human being," he said mildly. 

"You were a slave."

James shook his head. There was no point trying to get Foreman to understand.

"Please get out of my way, _sir_."

Foreman took a step to one side and James went past him. 

They reached the front door and James looked back. The others had all come out into the hallway and his eyes briefly met Greg's for the last time and then Greg turned away. James left the house, breathing a sigh as the door shut behind him. He looked out at the street, basked in sunlight.

"So, I'm free now?"

"Technically not until we take your paperwork to the station and get you processed, so in about an hour's time," Tritter replied, his eyes already on his phone and his next case.

"Thank you," James said.

Tritter glanced up briefly. "We didn't expect this; we had no idea about Vogler's involvement in the Canadian scene. You lucked out, son. Play your cards right and you should get some nice compensation out of this - a lifetime of memories has to be worth something. Enjoy your freedom." He said it ironically, as if it meant nothing. He was wrong.

They got in the car, James in the back. As they drove away he looked back at the house.

"I'll be back, Greg," he promised.


	18. Chapter 18

The opening of the new wing - and the relaunch of a totally revamped Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital - was the next day. All the arrangements were in place, including the arrival of a television film crew to make a documentary set about the hospital. Edward Vogler's name has been erased from all promotional material as if it had never existed and that incident was now becoming part of hospital legend rather than an ongoing source of gossip. Cuddy was pleased and she smiled at Foreman as she signed off on the schedule of events for the next day.

"Congratulations, Eric, I couldn't have done it without you."

He smiled back, relaxed and comfortable as he sat across the desk from her. This was why he had been hired, and she was sincere with what she had said, she and Eric had worked smoothly together. Finding love, and a life with him, was an added bonus. 

She was about to suggest they leave for the day when she noticed him through the office doors. Jimmy, no _, James_ , Foreman's former slave.

She'd expected to see him long before this, making some pathetic effort to buy Greg, and when he hadn't appeared she'd reasoned that he had returned to Canada, or gone anywhere that was far from the place where he'd been a slave. He'd probably forgotten about Greg as soon as he became a free man. After all it was only chance that had brought them together.

It was the worst timing that brought him here now, on the eve of the climax to all their work over the past year.

She glanced at Greg and saw that his gaze was fixed on the man approaching the office. He even took a step towards the door.

"Greg, stay," she commanded and he took another step but then stopped, his eyes still locked on the approaching man.

James opened the office door without bothering to knock and she stood up, Foreman joining her.

He looked different. He'd put on a little weight, but the biggest difference was in his clothing. Foreman had always had him smartly turned out, in business shirts and dress pants - attire similar to his own. Now he was wearing casual clothes, not scruffy, but not with the crispness of Foreman's wardrobe. Where before he'd always been kept clean shaven, now he had stubble, and a wispy moustache. His hair was shorter, cut in a no-nonsense way, rather than the precise styling that Foreman had favoured. 

As he came towards her she saw another difference, he walked taller and with more confidence. His eyes met hers openly; he didn't stare at the ground. He didn't offer his hand to either her or Foreman, but gave Greg a warm smile and a nod.

"Hi, Greg," he said. "It's been a while."

"James," Cuddy cut in, before Greg could start a conversation. "We were just leaving for the day, what can we do for you?"

James stopped smiling and focused his attention on her. 

"So, we're not going to bother with pleasantries? Good. You know why I'm here."

"I assume you have some quixotic notion of buying Greg from me." She shrugged. "Sorry, he's not for sale at any price."

James laughed softly. "Oh, I don't want to _buy_ him – he’s a human being, not a piece of furniture. You're going to free him."

There was a moment of silence and then Cuddy shook her head.

"I said he's not for sale, and you think I'm just going to _free_ him? That's absurd. He's been with me a long time, and he's been a slave since he was twelve. I doubt he would even know what to do if he were free."

"Oh, I think he could figure it out," James said with a wry grin. "I managed."

"Not very well if you think any of this is going to work. Now, like I said, we were just leaving. We have a big day tomorrow."

"Yes, I heard. Big opening of the new wing. A documentary being made. Television crews will be here. Lots of publicity. Funny thing, my story got out to the media - I'm sure you've heard."

Yes, there had been mentions in the news of an innocent man who'd been framed for murder and enslaved. The media hadn't released his name or any details but it had been apparent to both of them who it was. 

"They can't identify me by name unless I agree to it. So far I haven't. I'm in contact with several high profile people who want my story. You know, the whole story of my time as a slave, how I was treated, what I did, who owned me. Things like that. The tabloids are particularly interested - they always like a good slave story."

Cuddy glanced at Foreman who was looking concerned. He was a proud man, the last thing he would want would be his name dragged through the tabloids. 

"You were treated well here," Cuddy said. 

"Opinions might differ on that. My ass certainly does."

"You were a slave. We, or the hospital, would hardly be condemned for treating a slave _as_ a slave."

"No," James agreed. "Although the public don't often have a chance to hear the real truth; what it actually means to be a slave. And the fact that I shouldn't have been a slave in the first place may incur some extra sympathy when I tell them how I was ordered to kneel at Foreman's feet every morning and blow him. The story about having to sleeping on an old blanket on the floor next to his washing machine would be good, or I could tell them about working fourteen or sixteen hours a day, every day." 

He looked thoughtful. "Yes, I think I could do a lot with that, and I don't have much to lose at this stage. What I was really thinking of though was telling the general public and all those rich sponsors you have, about your 'Diagnostics Department'. I wonder what the medical board would make of an unlicensed Doctor, a slave at that, practicing medicine? What about all those journal articles, supposedly written by Doctor Chase, but actually written by Greg? If we go back further, I wonder how much help Greg provided you when you were going through medical school, Doctor Cuddy? How many papers did he write for _you_?" 

She followed his gaze to look at Greg who was still standing quietly behind the desk leaning heavily on his cane. Greg was openly grinning, obviously enjoying her discomfort. Then James focused his attention back on Cuddy. 

"So, I can tell that story, tonight, to the cameras. Maybe I'll even cry a little - that usually works. How do you think tomorrow's event will go after that?"

Cuddy stared at him silently. He was right, of course, she couldn't allow Greg's unusual situation to come out. Not now, just when the hospital was expanding. The hospital would be badly damaged by another scandal, so soon after the Vogler one. And both she and Eric would be personally embarrassed by his allegations. He had a winning hand.

She looked at Foreman, and by the slump of his shoulders she could see he agreed. She was going to lose Greg - but maybe she could get something out of it.

"You can buy him - one million dollars. I'm sure you got more than that in compensation."

James smiled again, although there was nothing pleasant about his expression. 

"Much more. I'm not buying him. I already told you what I want - Greg free, today - or I go to the media." He stared at her, not even pretending to be affable now. 

_All in_ , she thought, _he's staking everything on this - and he's not bluffing_. James was giving her no choice. 

"It's unreasonable to expect me to virtually give such a valuable slave away."

"You've had twenty years work out of him; whatever your mother paid for him has been repaid many times over. Does your hospital's reputation rely that heavily on one slave?" 

She leant back on the desk, pretending to think, but she was nearly out of options. She tried one last gambit.

"I haven't got time to do this now, I'll do it but I'll need a few days."

"No. This happens now, or it doesn't happen, and I go to the press."

She'd lost. If she didn't do this she'd lose him anyway - Greg would never settle down to work again after this, and if James followed through on his threat she could stand to lose a lot more. She looked at Foreman and he gave a little shrug and shook his head.

"Okay - I assume you have some sort of plan for this?"

"My car is outside; we'll go in that to the police station, they can do the paperwork. Doctor Foreman can come if he likes, but Greg rides up front with me."

She went to argue but shook her head, deciding against it, she just wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. She had a big day tomorrow, and now, no slave to help.  
________________________________________

 

Greg was reminded of that long ago day when his father dragged him to the slave trader's office to sell him. The bored police officer handed over sheafs of forms for Cuddy to initial and watched her while she did so. He explained to her that once this was done she couldn't change her mind and that the slave, Greg, would have all the rights of a free man. He asked her if she was being coerced in any way to take this step. She glanced up at James but then firmly said no.

Finally she was done signing and the police office gathered the papers back up, shuffling one to the top and handing it to her.

"Have him sign that, if he can. If not he can just make his mark. He's supposed to read it all but I've never met a slave yet who objected to being freed. Not that many are. You're very generous."

Greg almost snorted but a quick glance from James quieted him. James was watching everything carefully but Greg could see he was a ball of tension, despite his outwardly calm appearance.

Cuddy handed Greg the form and he glanced it over, and then quickly signed it. On a whim he used his full name, Gregory John House, writing it heavily.

"Okay, that's it. Congratulations," the officer said, taking the form back and barely glancing at Greg. "You're a free man." He looked at Cuddy. "You got the key to his collar?"

She fumbled in her purse and produced it, making a move towards him. James stepped forward and took it from her.

"I'll do it."

He came and stood behind Greg where he was sitting and laid a hand on the back of his neck. Brushing Greg's hair aside he quickly fitted the key to the lock at the back of the collar and removed it. He dropped the collar heavily on the table and ghosted his other hand along Greg's shoulder.

Greg stared at the leather object on the table. He'd worn a collar since he was twelve years old, when his father had put his first one on. He put a hand up to his throat, feeling the scarred tissue there. When he put his hand back down he noticed that it was shaking.

James came around in front of him and touched his own throat. "The marks fade in time. Come on, let's go."

When they made their way back out of the station Greg paused at the bottom of the steps. He had no idea what to do next. James came up next to him.

"I'm sure you can make your own way back to the hospital," he said to Cuddy. "Greg and I have a lot to catch up on."

Cuddy rolled her eyes at him but then looked at Greg.

"We can probably arrange for you to consult at PPTH. You might find you need some money. I'm there for you if you need me - we've known each other a long time after all. And it's not like any other hospital will employ you."

Greg almost laughed. He'd rather push a broom around for the rest of his life than go anywhere near that hospital again. If he didn't ever see Cuddy, or Foreman, again in his life he'd die a happy man.

"Come on, Greg. Let's go," James said, touching his hand lightly. 

"Wait. There's something I've wanted to do for a while," Greg said, moving closer to him and slipping his arms around him. He touched his lips gently to James', a soft enquiry. James looked surprised and then grinned happily, answering the pressure with his own, and deepening the kiss, right there on the sidewalk in front of Foreman and Cuddy. 

When they broke apart Greg looked back at Cuddy, who was staring at him, her eyes wide, frozen in place. Foreman looked like he was going to stroke out.

"Oh, you know the couch in the living room? You might wanna think about replacing that. That's where we used to do it every night while you were sleeping, and James can be a bit... passionate," Greg said with a smirk. “There were… leakages, if you know what I mean.” 

He turned his back on them and headed towards the car, cane in his right hand, James on his left side, walking close enough that their shoulders brushed. 

He didn't look back.  
________________________________________

 

James had only driven a couple of blocks when they passed a park.

"Stop here," Greg said, staring out at the green space. "I need to ----"

He couldn't articulate what he needed but James didn't hesitate. He pulled the car up and they both got out. Greg limped slowly towards a picnic table in the centre of the park. Once there he sat on the wooden seat and stared out at the people busy enjoying the park.

"I used to sit on the roof of the hospital and look out onto this park. I used to imagine I was free." His fingers again went to his bare neck. James hand came up to cover his.

"You _are_ free, now. Nothing can change that."

"I don't know if I know how to be free anymore."

James smiled ruefully. "It takes some getting used to, but it gets easier, and it sure as hell beats the alternative. People don't know… they don't appreciate what they have."

Greg looked at him, rolling his cane between his hands. "What have you been doing? Can they... did they give you your memory back?" He swallowed hard, if James remembered his old life now, maybe he would want to go back to it. Back to somebody like Holling. But he couldn't begrudge him getting those memories back - James had lost so much.

James ran a hand through his hair and stared into the distance. "I was in therapy for a while, intensive therapy. They tried to dig the memories back up. It's an experimental procedure - it's not like they've had a lot of practice reversing mind-wiping. It was hard, I'd just get bits and pieces of things, often the worse things, and those were the strongest memories. I couldn't make sense of it. Each therapy session left me more and more confused. I was physically ill after each session - I got migraines for days. In the end I stopped going. I have a little, now, maybe more will come back naturally - maybe it won't." He shrugged. 

"Have you met your family?"

"Yes, my parents and one of my brothers. It was... okay. They seem like pleasant people. I don't really remember any of them so we don't have much in common. They were a little embarrassed - like they didn't know what to say. They didn't ask me what it was like being a slave at all."

James looked down at his hands, twisting them together. 

"I'm sorry it took me so long to come and get you. I hope you didn't think I'd forgotten you. Every day I've been working towards this, planning for it - I couldn't take the risk of it failing. The event tomorrow was the perfect thing I needed to force Cuddy's hand. My compensation payment came through last month.”  
“I knew you’d come,” Greg said, and he had. He’d never doubted James in all the months since, it was what had kept him going. He strove to lighten the mood that had suddenly become somber. "You had enough money and you still wanted me for free, you cheapskate.”

"I didn't want to buy you," James said simply. "It wouldn't have been right; I wanted Cuddy to free you. The money was just there as a back-up. If she'd called my bluff, it's all in a ready access account; I would have spent every cent to see you safe."

Greg laughed. "I wish I could tell Cuddy that, would love to see her face if she knew she could have had a shit load of cash for me, instead of nothing."

James grinned back. "I think you got your own revenge. Think they'll go straight home and burn that couch?"

"If I'd had some warning I would have left them a few nasty surprises."

Silence fell and Greg could feel the weight of the past settling over them. 

"Come on, it’s going to be dark soon," James said, breaking the uneasy moment. Greg felt his stomach twist. He didn't know exactly where he stood. He was alone in this world, unlike James he didn't have any money, or any possessions except for the clothes on his back. He was on the wrong side of forty, crippled, in constant pain, and an ex-slave. People wouldn't be beating down his door to hire him. 

James stood up but Greg kept sitting, his gaze on the horizon. James looked down at him, a little impatiently.

"Greg? I know it's a lot to adjust to but you can't sit here all day."

"Where are we going?" 

"Home. It's about twenty minutes drive from here, I figured you wouldn't want to be right on top of the hospital."

" _Your_ home." 

"I'd like," James paused, swallowing nervously. "I'd like it to be _our_ home but it doesn't have to be. Look, I know we were sort of thrown together. Maybe you'll feel differently now that you have the freedom to choose. I don't want you to feel pressured. The apartment has two bedrooms. You can stay as long as you want. Get your own feet under you. I have more than enough money, you can have half - you can go anywhere you want, live anywhere you want. I don't want you to feel like you don't have a choice. Not ever."

"But you still want to be with me?" Greg asked, his breath catching as he waited for the answer. 

"Of course I do, you idiot. I want to be with you for the rest of our lives - if that is what you want as well. We can start fresh, Greg. We can start again from today. We can do anything we want to do." He held out his hand to Greg.

Greg took the hand and pushed himself to his feet. He looked around and took a deep breath of the fresh air. The sky was darkening but he could still see James clearly. 

"Then let's go home."

 

~ End


	19. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long overdue epilogue - warning for relentlessly happy ending!

'Home' turned out to be a luxurious apartment in the heart of the city. 

"Just how much money did you get?" Greg stared around himself in astonishment. The apartment was large, with luxury fittings and furniture, two bathrooms, two bedrooms and a designer kitchen. It was on the top floor of the building and it even had a spacious balcony that looked out over the city. 

James grinned at him. "I got a good lawyer, and he had a great case. Two of the investigating officers in my case turned out to be corrupt and directly involved in planting the evidence that got me convicted. The police and the city were keen to settle without the mess going through the courts. I got the equivalent of thirty-five years of future earnings, plus punitive damages of quite a few million."

So, a great deal of money.

"You own this?"

James shook his head. "No, I just rented it until I could get you out of there, and see what you wanted to do. We can go anywhere you want. I meant what I said about giving you half the money. I'll fix that up tomorrow."

Greg shook his head. He was scrambling to catch up. This morning, like all the mornings for many years, he had woken up a slave. Now he was free, and apparently about to become rich. "You don't owe me anything. That money belongs to you."

"You didn't deserve to be a slave, any more than I did - and you were one for a lot longer. My lawyer even thinks you may have a case if you were taken without your mother's permission but in the meantime we'll share my compensation. Neither of us will have any financial concerns." Which was important to both of them, as bankruptcy was a sure path to slavery.  
James prepared them a quick dinner which they ate while they watched television. Greg handled the remote control, racing through all the available channels, taking it all in. Just sitting like this doing whatever he wanted without fear of being punished was such a different experience for him that he found it suddenly overwhelming. He started shaking and James took him in his arms, holding him tightly.

"I know," he murmured in Greg's ear. "It takes time. Being free isn't always easy." He took the remote from Greg's hand and turned the set off. "Let's call it a night; it's been a long day."

He led Greg to his bedroom, helped him undress and slipped under the sheets with him, holding him again. He kissed him gently as a promise of more to come in the future. He longed to have sex with him, without fear of discovery for the first time, but Greg's whole world had changed in the space of less than a day - he knew how that felt. Greg was overwhelmed and emotionally exhausted. There'd be time enough for more. All the time in the world. Greg fell asleep in his arms.

In the morning he woke to find the bed empty. He quickly got up and went out to the living area. Greg was out there, wearing a pair of James' sweatpants - which didn't really fit him. They'd have to do some shopping. Greg's sole possessions were the clothes he'd been wearing yesterday. Clothes chosen and bought for him by Cuddy. James had ceremoniously burnt the clothes he'd been wearing when he was freed, maybe they could do the same with Greg's. Or mail them back to Cuddy with a message - Greg might like that idea. 

"Did you wake up early?" he asked, coming up behind Greg and touching his shoulder. Waking up at the crack of dawn ready for another day's hard labour was a difficult habit to break. 

Greg nodded. He seemed restless. His fingers drummed on the arm of the chair. James realised what he'd forgotten. He hurried back into the bathroom and came back with some ibuprofen.

"This is all I could get without a prescription. We'll have to get you to a doctor today." 

Greg took the ibuprofen and swallowed two pills dry. He was usually given Vicodin but Cuddy had never had any compunction about withholding it for disciplinary purposes - he'd manage without for a few hours.

After a little while his tension lessened and he looked up at James who was hovering anxiously.

"Thank you," he held out a hand to James. "For everything."

"You'd do no less for me." James knelt beside his chair and took his hand. "Breakfast?" 

Greg shook his head. "Not yet." He reached out to stroke James' cheek. James closed his eyes and savoured the touch. The time they'd had together had always been clouded by anxiety and fear. Now nothing would come between them. 

"This... being with you... knowing that nothing can happen to us if we do this ... " Greg said, his lips meeting James. 

They kissed for a long while and then James tugged Greg to his feet. "Come on, there's a king sized bed with our names on it in there. It will be more comfortable than a chair."

Once in the bedroom he stripped Greg of the sweatpants and stepped out of his own. They both laid down on the bed and James explored Greg's body with his hands, thrilling at the opportunity to take his time and enjoy this instead of snatching forbidden moments with him. 

"I missed you so much, every day. I dreamed of having you with me again." He leaned in to kiss Greg. Their legs wrapped around each other and they slowly made love, celebrating both their freedoms. When James came he felt hot tears dripping down his cheeks and Greg's gentle fingers brushing them away. The dozed in each other's arms, and when they awoke again, with the sun high in the sky, they made love again before getting up. James made them both pancakes which they ate on the balcony, enjoying the precious gift of both time and the freedom to enjoy it.

* * *

James looked up anxiously as Greg re-entered the apartment. He'd offered to go with him while he attended the medical school interviews but Greg had pointed out that he wouldn't have James to hold his hand during the years it would take him to gain his degree and then his license to practise medicine. There were some things that Greg had to do on his own. 

James had decided not to attempt to get a license again. The prospect of spending years in school, learning things he'd already learned once and that had been forcibly taken from him, did not appeal. He had other plans for his life. But Greg's special gift was medicine, and although he could consult anonymously on the internet - and had done so since he'd been freed - to practise properly he needed this.

Greg greeted him with a kiss and a quick hug. Even now, weeks after Greg had been freed, they both enjoyed as much physical contact as they could - something that had been denied them for so long. 

"They're going to let me test out of a lot of it. I'll have to do the all the practical courses, and the clinical work in hospitals, but it should cut the time down to two or three years." 

"Yes!" James pumped his fist happily. "I knew you could do it." 

Greg swallowed hard. "It's not going to be easy." He touched his fingers to his neck, where the tell-tale marks still showed. Freed slaves weren't exactly viewed in high regard in medical school circles. Only the money James had received in the settlement had made it easier for Greg to get this deal. Many people and companies that wouldn't otherwise deal with an ex-slave reacted well to the promise of some cash.

"You can do it." James said confidently. He had no doubts about Greg's abilities. "I'll help you study, and you can keep teaching me as well. After all, somebody has to give you all those epiphanies."

* * *

James sat uncomfortably in a chair in the television studio. He would be shot in shadow so he couldn't be identified but it was still confronting to be doing this. He'd been seeing a therapist to come to terms with everything that had happened during his enslavement, but talking about it to a television audience that numbered in the many millions was another matter.

He'd keep his word to Cuddy and not identify either her, Foreman, or the hospital. He would describe exactly what had happened to him, both during his slave training, and while he was owned by Foreman. People needed to know the unpleasant truth behind the slaves they saw every day. 

He looked over to the side, out of shot, and saw Greg standing there. Greg gave him a small, tight, smile. Greg didn't approve of him doing this. He wanted them both to keep a low profile. Greg saw their freedom as something fragile. Something that could shatter. He'd been a slave for so long that it was hard to shake that mindset. He was afraid but he'd come here, to support him, and that gave James a surge of confidence. 

His life now was as good as he could ever imagine. He had time and money enough to do anything he wanted, and Greg was making good progress on his medical degree. Now James wanted to make life better for the thousands of other slaves who would never otherwise have a chance at freedom. This was his first shot in that war.

The presenter hurried in and sat down opposite him. They'd met earlier and gone through what he was going to say. James knew she was sympathetic to his cause. 

"Okay?" she asked with a quick smile. At James' shaky nod she reached out and touched his hand gently. "It will be fine. Just say what happened to you. People need to know."

He took a deep breath, the lights went on and the camera rolled. The presenter introduced him and then it was his turn to speak.

"My name is James. I was convicted of a crime I didn't commit and sentenced to be mind-wiped and enslaved. I want to tell the world what it means to be a slave."

* * *

Cuddy and Foreman watched James' interview in growing discomfort. James didn't identify them, and he was shot in shadow so that his face couldn't be seen, but they knew it was him, and so would most of the hospital.

As James calmly outlined his typical working day, including having to give a morning blow job to his owner, Foreman squirmed. He knew he hadn't done anything wrong legally. He hadn't treated Jimmy worse than any slave owner treated their slave, and had treated him a damn sight better than most. But hearing it now; the blanket in the laundry he slept on, the hours he worked, the sex he had demanded from his slave, it sounded so much worse than it had seemed. And he'd done all that to an intelligent being. A man who used to be a doctor. Someone not very different from Foreman when it came down to it. 

"I didn't know," he said, as he'd said many times since James had been freed. "I thought I was doing the right thing."

Cuddy took his hand. "I know. They were both slaves. We treated them like that, there's nothing wrong with that. That's the way it works."

James' voice broke on-screen, his composure dented for the first time as he described his stay in the cells of the hospital. The fear and loneliness he'd felt during those days. The love he felt for Greg the only thing that had kept him going. Then he talked about the loss of his identity, of his memory, and how every day he struggled to regain himself. 

Neither Cuddy nor Foreman ever owned another slave.

* * *

After James brought home the fifth newly freed slave to their apartment Greg put his foot down.

"You can't keep freeing slaves and bringing them home." James had a habit of seeing a slave out in public, approaching their owner and buying the slave's freedom. Then of course the former slave had to stay somewhere until their family could be contacted to come and get them. Some of the families weren't eager to get their long lost member back and two of the former slaves still lived with them as they struggled to build a new life for themselves.

James sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I know. The Foundation will do this work once I get it set up and running, but you know, bureaucracy." He shrugged. He'd been doing a lot of fund-raising to get the Foundation going because even his money wouldn't last forever at this rate. He just found it hard to see a slave suffering and not do something about it when it was so simple to grant them freedom. 

Ideally he didn't want to buy the freedom of slaves. He wanted to change public opinion enough that people would start freeing them voluntarily. That was already happening. The number of emancipations was double what they were the year before. But freeing a slave was only half the battle. Then they had to be integrated back into society. That wasn't easy, or cheap. 

What they ultimately needed was for the law to change, and he was also working on that. The next presidential election would have slavery as one of the issues raised, maybe the election after that it would be the key issue. 

In the meantime there was a young woman in their apartment, looking lost. She'd been enslaved ever since she was sold by her family when she was five. James had to help her. She was in her twenties and had no idea what it meant to be free. 

He had a small army of lawyers working on a class action case for people enslaved as children without proper parental consent. It was possible that Greg was a candidate for joining that case but they'd discovered that his Dad had died during the period of time he'd been enslaved and he had adamantly refused to try and contact his Mom to see if she had given permission. He didn't want to know. James thought that if his father hadn't been dead Greg would have tracked him down and killed him. James might have helped him. 

Greg was staring at their newest guest as she sat at the kitchen table, eating the simple dinner James had prepared for her. She was eating carefully, each mouthful of food being savoured. She ate hunched over the meal protectively, as if someone would take it away. 

"Hey, kid!" he called out and she looked up warily. 

"Nobody is going to hurt you here," he said. "You can stay as long as you need to, and you'll be fed and you won't have to do anything you don't want to. Nobody will touch you."

She looked doubtful and James didn't blame her. Years of being treated like a piece of furniture left a mark on the soul. She'd need time to learn how to be free, just as Greg had. 

She looked over at him.

"You bought me and then freed me," she said, bewilderment in her voice. "Why would you do that?"

James didn't know how to answer that but Greg got in first. 

"Because he can."

* * *

James insisted on hanging Greg's medical school diploma in a place of prominence in their apartment.

"You should have had this years ago," he said when Greg wanted to sling it in a drawer. "You've earned this, many times over. I'm proud of you. You should be proud too."

One day he returned to the apartment and found his own diploma hanging next to Greg's. He stood and stared at it.

"You might not have a license anymore, but that's still yours," Greg said. He came up behind James and stroked his arm. "You earned it just as much as I did."

James swallowed a lump in his throat as he stared at the life he might have lived. 

"How did you get it?" James had very few reminders of his old life with him. He still didn't remember much of it. He felt that loss keenly, but he had a new life now, and he had Greg. If he hadn't become a slave he would never have met Greg, and Greg wouldn't be free. He might mourn his lost past but he couldn't regret everything that had happened to him.

"Called your Mom," Greg said casually. "She sent it up. She also said she'd like us to visit her over the holidays."

James was startled. He'd reached out to his family when he was first freed but because he couldn't remember any of them it had been difficult and contact between them had been sporadic at best. He hadn't taken Greg to see them although he'd told them that he was living with someone.

"You... you want to go?" he asked. Greg had no family that he cared to reconnect with; he'd thought that seeing James' family might be painful for him.

"She said she wanted to meet me," he could hear a tone of disbelief in Greg's voice and he turned and wrapped him in his arms, hugging him fiercely. 

"Of course she wants to meet the man I'm going to marry," he said. 

Greg pulled away from him, his eyes wide. "You're going to marry me?"

"If you want," James said, striving for a tone of indifference but falling far short. 

Greg looked away from him, back at the diplomas on the wall. He reached one hand up to touch his throat, where his collar used to sit. Then he looked back at James while James held his breath. If Greg refused his proposal they would still have each other. But James hadn't realised until he said the words how much he wanted this legal confirmation of what they were to each other. It might not be logical, or rational, but he wanted that piece of paper so that it would be harder for anyone to ever part them. 

Greg finally nodded his head sharply and tapped his cane on the ground. 

"Okay. Sounds good."

* * *

"You invited Cuddy to our wedding?" James asked incredulously. He was lying on their bed, his tie loosened, but still wearing the suit he'd worn to their wedding. Greg had just casually mentioned that he'd been in touch with her. 

"She offered me a position at PPTH - setting up my own diagnostics programme. Guess she'd heard of the one I'm running here in Boston. I said 'no way in hell' and mentioned that I was marrying 'Jimmy' on the weekend if she and Foreman wanted to come." Greg looked him, his eyes wide in mock innocence. 

James shook his head in disbelief. They rarely talked about their time at PPTH anymore, or their time as slaves, but it always hung over them. James wasn't sure how either of them would have reacted to Cuddy and Foreman's appearance at their wedding.

Greg had already taken off his tie, now he stripped off his shirt as well, much to James' appreciation. Scars still criss-crossed his back but he'd put on both muscle and weight as a free man. He looked healthy. 

Greg joined him on the bed, lying down with his head next to James. 

"Something interesting she said though - when she was trying to poach me from General," he turned his head to look at James. "The hospital has either sold off or freed all its slaves. They're not getting any more. It's working, James. You're doing it."  


"That's great - I just wish it could go quicker." He reached out and stroked Greg's face. "But we're not really going to spend our wedding night talking about Cuddy are we?"

"Absolutely not."

* * *

The day that the last of the child slaves were freed they had their own private celebration on the balcony of their apartment - away from all the television cameras, and the reporters that wanted to hear from James. This wasn't his day, he insisted. This was the work of many people, and it was a day that should never have been needed.

"The job’s not done yet, not until every slave is freed." James sipped his wine as he tabbed through the videos being posted to the internet. The children had all been given a choice as to whether to return to their parents or not - nobody would force them. Most were going home. The rest would go to families that the Foundation had found for them. Loving homes where they could learn to be children again and not slaves. His mother had even applied to take in a child herself.

Greg remembered back to the first days of his enslavement. Sold by his father when he was just a child he had longed to be rescued. He'd cried for weeks for his mother, until he'd realised that rescue wasn't ever coming. There had been nobody to fight for his freedom. Not until James had come into his life. 

"At least you didn't try to bring them all here," he grumbled weakly, hoping to disguise the tears that were lurking in his eyes as he watched the images on James' screen. 

James leaned forward and captured his hands, squeezing them lightly. 

"Thank you, Greg."

Greg looked down at his hands, clasped in James' hands. "Not that I mind, but why are you thanking me?"

"For being a friend when I needed one. For supporting me in what I've been doing. I know it brings up a lot of bad memories for you. I know this has been difficult for you."

"For both of us," Greg said, shaking his head. "James, what you've done... "

"What we've _both_ done," James insisted. "You've helped, Greg. Don't you dare say you haven't. This," he indicated the computer screen with a wave of his hand. "This is a victory for both of us, for all of us - everyone who's worn that collar around their neck. No more children will be enslaved. Soon, within a year or two, no new adults will be enslaved either. One day there won't be any slaves at all."

"Together, we can change the world!" Greg mocked, but gently. James smiled at him and raised his glass in salute.

"Together, we have." 

~ End


End file.
